


Living With Satan: A Beginner's Guide

by violent_ends



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: BAMF Chloe Decker, Babysitting, Comedy, Crack, Dan Espinoza & Lucifer Morningstar Friendship, Dan Espinoza Finds Out, Domestic Fluff, Established Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Found Family, Funny, Gen, Lucifer Fluffuary 2020 (Lucifer TV), Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) Speaks All Languages, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) is a Dork, LuciferLockDown, POV Chloe Decker, Post-Lucifer (TV) Season/Series 04, Post-Season/Series 04, PromptSmiles, Protective Chloe Decker, Protective Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Protective Trixie Decker, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff, Soft Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Trixie Decker & Lucifer Morningstar Bonding, Trixie Decker & Lucifer Morningstar Fluff, Trixie Decker & Lucifer Morningstar Friendship, Wing Grooming, Wingfic, Wings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-01-23 03:14:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 102,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21313252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violent_ends/pseuds/violent_ends
Summary: An easy, step-by-step manual on how to deal with the everyday problems that inevitably arise when your boyfriend is the Devil himself.
Relationships: Amenadiel & Charlie Martin & Linda Martin (Lucifer TV), Charlie Martin & Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Chloe Decker & Dan Espinoza & Lucifer Morningstar, Chloe Decker & Ella Lopez & Linda Martin & Mazikeen, Chloe Decker & Ella Lopez & Lucifer Morningstar, Chloe Decker & Eve, Chloe Decker & Trixie Decker & Lucifer Morningstar, Chloe Decker & Trixie Espinoza & Mazikeen, Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, Eve/Mazikeen (Lucifer TV), Michael & Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Trixie Decker & Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 1090
Kudos: 1633
Collections: Prompts for Smiles





	1. How to... have a productive argument

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to have a productive argument with your boyfriend when he can and does fly away every time he gets uncomfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by [matchstick_dolly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/matchstick_dolly/pseuds/matchstick_dolly) & [MoanDiary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoanDiary/pseuds/MoanDiary).

Chloe’s closet is all wrong. Well, it looks _perfect_, but it’s… wrong.

“Lucifer, what is this?” she asks him without turning around, feeling his presence from where he’s sitting against her headboard, his chest bare and his hair still tousled from sleep and better things.

“The best sorting system to keep your questionable wardrobe in order, love. You’re welcome.”

She turns around to glare at him, gesturing at his handiwork with frantic hands.

“Color-based? Really?”

His unapologetic expression is a clear indication of where the conversation is headed.

“Well, I admit it was harder than I originally thought, given the presence of a baffling number of shades of beige, but-"

“When did you even find the time to do this?” she cuts him off, throwing her arms in the air.

“Last night, while you were helping your offspring with her homework” Lucifer replies, scrunching up his nose at the mere thought of wasting time with something so boring. “You took forever down there. Is she really that slow?”

Chloe grits her teeth and tries to ignore the comment altogether.

“Lucifer, you just… you can’t just move stuff around like this. Now I won’t be able to find what I want to wear.”

His face turns puzzled, as if for the (eternal) life of him, he can’t possibly understand what she’s complaining about.

“Yes, you will” he counters, pointing at her closet for emphasis. “Did I not speak English? It’s the best sorting system-"

“It’s not the best, it’s just _your_ system.”

A pause. An eyebrow slowly arching in the silence.

“…which is the best.”

She scoffs. He crosses his arms over his chest. Chloe does the same.

“You know, for a champion of free will, you’re certainly good at taking choices away” she mumbles, but loud enough for him to hear.

Lucifer’s eyes widen, his nostrils flaring. He sits up all of a sudden, puffing up his chest in defiance, but when he opens his mouth to speak, what comes out isn’t even a complete sentence.

“I- you-"

It’s honestly something to be proud of, the ability to render him speechless, but Chloe doesn’t really have the time to enjoy it. An unexpected gust of air forces her eyes closed for a moment. When she opens them again, Lucifer is gone, along with his clothes from the chair in the corner and his phone from one of the nightstands.

“Unbelievable” Chloe mutters, taking a few quick steps forward to get a hold of her own phone. She dials his number, although she doesn’t really expect him to pick up, considering the stunt he just pulled.

Instead…

“_Yes?_” he snaps as soon as he answers the call, his usually deep voice now higher in pitch.

“Lucifer, where the hell did you go?!”

“Oh, certainly not _there_, darling, so you can stop worrying. _Ciao!_”

And he cuts the call.

Chloe flinches and stares at the screen as if the device itself just offended her. Then, she looks back at the cause of the whole argument, taking a couple of frustrated breaths.

Maybe she overreacted, she decides. After all, his heart was in the right place. Maybe it’s not even worth bringing up later at the precinct (assuming he'll show up despite his temper). And maybe, this disappearing act is just a one-time thing.

It isn’t.

  
_What to do:_  


_1\. Start with the obvious solution_

Lucifer disappears in a swirl of air that has the effect of a small-scale tornado, sending folders and papers flying from the table of the meeting room Chloe dragged him into to reprimand him. She blows strands of hair away from her face and stares up at the ceiling, refraining from addressing a certain Someone in an outburst of frustration.

This time, instead of calling and being hung up on, she decides to take matters into her own hands.

She finds him on the balcony of his penthouse, brooding, with a cigarette between his lips. He has the audacity to _glare_ at her, once she approaches him enough for him to spot her, settling next to him against the glass railing.

“What must a Devil do to have a moment of peace and quiet, eh?” Lucifer asks her before taking a long drag.

“Maybe hide somewhere that isn’t his own residence?” Chloe quips.

She kind of regrets it, though, because she certainly shouldn’t give him ideas: Lucifer is perfectly capable of flying all the way to the other side of the world or maybe even to another planet (wait a minute, is he?), and he definitely has a fondness for drama.

“Right, fair point” he mutters, looking into the distance. “Come on, then. Spit it out.”

She gives him a scowl, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“I _was_ spitting it out, Lucifer. Could you maybe stop running for the hills every time you-"

“Well, I wouldn’t call it _running_, dear” he cuts her off with a grin that is entirely too pleased considering he's the one in the wrong here.

“_Whatever_” Chloe sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Before you ran – sorry, _flew off_ –, I was trying to tell you that you’re lucky you didn’t break the guy’s wrist, Lucifer. That’s a lawsuit waiting to happen. You need to learn how to keep yourself in check or you’ll get in trouble.”

Lucifer chuckles, infuriatingly amused.

“In trouble with the mighty LAPD?” he mocks, one hand over his chest. “Oh, deary me, whatever will I do?”

“Stop it" Chloe warns, tone clipped and cold. Lucifer turns to look at her, one eyebrow raised.

“Stop what, love?” he inquires oh-so-innocently.

“Stop acting like you don’t care about whether you get to work with me or not.”

He flicks the cigarette away and straightens himself up, towering over her, but Chloe doesn’t even take a step backwards.

“I _do_ care" he bristles, jaw clenching. “I care very much, I-"

“Then act like it.”

Lucifer’s mouth opens and closes wordlessly, index finger pointed upwards as if ready to school her, but it’s clear he doesn’t know what the lesson is. His shoulders start to tense up and shake, and then-

“Lucifer, don’t you _dare_-"

_Poof._

“For the love of- ugh, dammit!”

  
  
  
  
_2\. Get smarter (literally)_

He’s not in his penthouse, he’s not in Linda’s office, he’s not on his (their) beloved beach. In theory, he’s nowhere to be found.

In reality, Chloe installed a tracking app on his phone and knows where he is at all times.

That’s what happens when your boyfriend is older than time itself but has the emotional maturity of a 15-year-old.

She walks all the way to the roof of the abandoned building he chose as his new hiding place, slightly out of breath once she reaches the top of the fire escape stairs.

“You really… had to make a scene… about the ending of _Titanic_?” she pants.

Lucifer turns around to gape at her as if she just grew a pair of wings herself.

“For crying out loud, how did you manage to find me this time?!” he snaps, clapping his hands over his thighs in an exasperated gesture. “Did Father gift you with some sort of angelic GPS, too?”

Well, God had nothing to do with it, but close enough.

“Oh, I'm not gonna give away my secret weapon" she replies as she walks closer. “Plus I'm a Detective, remember? Thought you’d know by now, considering how many times you feel the need to say the word.”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

“But seriously, Lucifer, you can’t just bolt every time we disagree on something. Frankly, it’s starting to get on my nerves.”

Lucifer ponders that for a moment. Hopefully, he’ll agree with her very sensible statement (the perfect accessory to her very sensible brown shoes) and they’ll get away from the chill of the night air to go back home and pretend they had a normal, romantic movie night.

“They could have both fit on that bloody door, Detective. I'm telling you, that was a load of bollocks.”

Right. Chloe should _really_ learn how to be _less_ hopeful.

  
  
  
  
_3\. Take drastic measures_

“You’re not getting a tiger, Lucifer. For one, it’s illegal.”

“Come now, Detective, let me live on the edge a little. Dad forbid people start to think the Devil's growing soft.”

Chloe doesn’t even want to know what kind of favor granted by Lucifer resulted in some billionaire offering to gift him a pet tiger. What she knows is that she stepped into his penthouse only to find him browsing the Internet on his phone in search of a cage sturdy enough to keep a feline indoors. The only explanation given was that the ones he used to have scattered around for BDSM purposes would probably be inadequate.

“Plus, the spawn insists on desiring a wretched cat, isn’t it so?” Lucifer doubles down. “I say this is a much more inspired solution. Also useful for my lack of elevator security issue. Do you think I can rent a tiger tamer on Craigslist?”

He reaches forward to pick up his phone from the glass table again, but Chloe stops him with a hand around his wrist, forcing him to resettle next to her on the couch.

“No, because you’re not getting a _tiger_ in the first place.”

Lucifer sighs.

“You always ruin my fun" he pouts. “A lion, then?”

“No.”

“An emu?”

“No.”

“A python?”

“No. Also, _why?!_”

“It’s exotic, Detective. We could drape it over your shoulders, make a little Britney out of you.”

Chloe snorts and looks away, trying to go past the ridiculousness of the mental picture he just painted.

“All joking aside, Lucifer, I doubt you'd able to take care of a potted plant,” she can’t help but admit, “let alone feed a wild animal.”

He sits up and turns his torso toward her, his black robe exposing more of his chest with the motion.

“I beg your bloody pardon?”

“Oh, you heard me” she smirks.

The outraged scoff that tumbles out of his lips lets her know she pushed him into a corner once again, which means he only has one way out.

Like the tiger she won’t allow him to own, Chloe pounces, tackling him against the armrest of the couch behind him and wrapping her arms around his body to keep him locked in a vice.

The Devil chuckles under her, then kisses the tip of her nose.

“You win, Detective. No tiger it is.”


	2. How to... keep your house clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s hard to maintain a relatively high standard of cleanliness in your house when your boyfriend has feathers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by [whopooh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whopooh/pseuds/whopooh).

Chloe hates cleaning, but it’s not like she can leave the task to Maze (who recently moved back in once she realized that to help taking care of a newborn human is a tedious, exhausting affair, or in her own muttered words, a pain in the ass). If she did, they would soon find themselves eating with their hands out of paper plates, surrounded by piles of unwashed dishes or swimming in the sea of snack wrappings the demon leaves on the couch after watching TV.

That’s what happens when your flatmate comes from a place that is perpetually covered in ashes, she supposes. No urge to sweep the floors.

She finds the time mostly at night, after tucking Trixie into bed. She empties the sink of what was used for dinner, scrubs the kitchen counter with a cloth, then takes a broom and goes hunting for food residue and wayward, sneaky dust balls. She would certainly be quicker with a vacuum cleaner, but given her schedule, this is her time slot and she can’t be loud.

Maybe she should just get a cleaner, except for Maze’s room. That is a trauma she doesn’t want to inflict on others (plus there’s a good chance Mazikeen _actually_ cleans in there, if only to keep her toy collection spotless).

On this particular night, though, something manages to shake up her otherwise dull routine. Because when Chloe takes a distracted glance at the filth she gathered in the dustpan before throwing it, for the first time she notices something different. Something… fluffy. Something she knows is fluffier than cotton, softer than silk, warmer than wool.

She takes one between her thumb and index finger and inspects it for good measure. The tiny feather, now dusty and gross, seems to have lost its usual luminescent quality. It looks... dead. Realization dawns on her, and she can’t help but snort into her free hand.

_Lucifer, do angels… molt?_ she texts him, snickering. He should be hosting at Lux but he always keeps an eye on his phone for her.

_Don’t be preposterous, Detective. We're not bloody birds_, he replies after a few minutes.

“Right" she mumbles to herself, feeling ridiculous. Problem is, she needs to know if she can get rid of these literal pieces of divinity without causing some kind of mayhem. Are they really as ineffective as they seem, once they fall?

She sends the same message to Amenadiel, adding this last question to the text. At least he will give her a direct answer. _I'll have a serving of truth minus the Luciferness on the side, please,_ she thinks.

When Lucifer’s brother texts her back and she reads the reply, Chloe grins.

As it turns out, angels _are_ bloody birds.

And one is shedding all over her kitchen floor. At first.

Then, it’s her bed. The small feathers that dot the base of Lucifer’s wings start sticking to pillows and sheets as if magnetized, but she only notices in the night once she gets back home from work, given the hurry of their morning routine whenever he stays over (not at all helped by how she lets herself be dragged into the shower by him, still sleepy and giggling in his embrace).

Chloe shrugs, closes the bedroom door to muffle the noise, and whips out the vacuum cleaner before pulling the sheets off the mattress, shaking them and tossing them in the washing machine.

Then, it’s her bathtub. Water pools almost to her ankles at a quicker pace than usual, but when she removes the strainer, it’s not her hair she finds clogging the drain.

This, she thinks, is the last straw.

  
  
  
  
_What to do:_  
  
_1\. Ask for an expert’s advice_

“I feel your pain, Chloe" Linda reassures her, cocktail glass in hand as they sit at the counter of their favorite tribe night Tiki Bar (the bar fight of their first night out remained one of the highlights of the most recent years, and both patrons and servers look at them with a pleasant mix of fear and respect). “Amenadiel is a nightmare these days. And I don’t think I have to remind you I actually have _two_ angels living in my house.”

“But, like… how is it possible?” Chloe wonders out loud, gesturing vaguely in the air. “The wings are, you know… not _here_, here.”

Linda lifts her shoulders and gives her an apologetic smile that says “At the end of the day, does it even matter?”. Next to her, a bored-looking Maze finally decides to give her useful contribution.

“The feathers become physical once they’re dead and fall off to be replaced" the demon provides around a mouthful of chips, shrugging. “The cleaning company that takes care of Lux and the penthouse believes they come from feather boas. You know, from the sex parties?”

“Obviously" Chloe replies dumbly. Because this is her life now. Her life with her former orgy host, shedding-like-a-bird angelic boyfriend. “And how often does this happen?”

“Once a year, for a couple of weeks" Maze replies, making her eyes widen. Once a year is manageable, but… a couple of _weeks_?

“So, feather-clogged bathtub.” Linda leads her back to the original point of the conversation. “Well, personally I-"

“Baking soda and white vinegar" Ella pipes up. The rest of the group turns to look at her curiously, but she simply keeps going, “Boil a pot of water and pour it down the drain, followed by ¼ cup of baking soda and one of vinegar. Then boil another pot of water and pour it after 20 minutes. You can Google it if you don’t believe me.”

The level of detail suggests Ella clearly knows what she’s talking about. Chloe giggles behind her hand once she puts two and two together and realizes why.

“You, uh… you have a celestial being sleeping in your guestroom, too, or is that just a generic piece of advice?” Linda asks the lab scientist while simultaneously shooting Chloe a puzzled look.

“Well, I could say she _is_ an angel, but technically speaking, Margaret is my bathtub chicken.”

Maze’s sudden burst of laughter sprays beer all over the counter, and Chloe's giggling turns to outright cackling.

  
  
  
  
_2\. Take the opportunity to teach a lesson about accountability_

“Detective, when I suggested you find someone else to do this… I meant for money, and I meant someone who's not _me_.”

Lucifer sits on the edge of the bathtub with his legs elegantly crossed, a prince on a rather meager, unbecoming, uncomfortable throne. The bright yellow of the cleaning gloves Chloe forced him to put on stands out against the dark purple of his suit. When she invited him over, she didn’t tell him what he would have to do once at her house. His first complaint, of course, was that if she did, he could have at least chosen a pocket square to match.

“Lucifer, I set everything up for you" Chloe scolds him, gesturing at the pot of boiled water and at the cups of white vinegar and baking soda she placed at his feet near the rim. “All you have to do is _pour stuff in_.”

“Why?” he inquires with a dumbfounded expression, as if she just asked him to jump off a cliff with a stone chained to his neck.

“Because it’s _your_ feathers.”

“But it’s _your_ bathtub.”

“Are you serious right now?”

He lets out a defeated sigh and turns around to peer down at the drain, nose wrinkling in disgust.

“Very well.”

Chloe leans against the opposite wall and crosses her arms in amusement and mild – no, complete – satisfaction.

“I'm fairly sure there are people in Hell being forced to do this as we speak" Lucifer sulks as he gets to work, his body turned at a weird angle, concealing the movement of his hands inside the tub.

“Oh, stop being so dramatic" Chloe chuckles as she rolls her eyes, forgetting who she’s talking to for a moment. “It’s just house chores.”

“I'm the Devil, darling. I don’t do _chores_” Lucifer says dryly, and yet, that’s exactly what he’s doing right now. The magnitude and significance of the event are not lost on Chloe.

After all, she’s the only one who gets to boss the Devil around.

  
  
  
  
_3\. Prevention is the best solution_

“If I didn’t know you better, Detective, I'd say you’re about to murder me" Lucifer comments as he stares at the tarp Chloe placed inside the now fully functioning bathtub, in a worried tone that suggests he actually considered the possibility of his dead body ending up wrapped in plastic and dumped somewhere. Chloe snorts and waves a hand at him in a shooing motion.

“Come on, step in” she encourages him. “I promise I'll make this quick.”

Lucifer sighs, crouches down to take off his shoes and then removes his jacket, which he neatly folds on top of the closed toilet lid. Left in his shirt, pants and socks, he reluctantly steps inside the bathtub, but facing Chloe. She arches an eyebrow at him, one hip cocked to the side.

“Lucifer, you have to turn around for it to work.”

“Is this really necess-" he starts, but the rest of the word dies in his throat once Chloe turns on the hairdryer clutched in her hand and blows hot air directly in his face, causing it to scrunch up adorably. A couple of stray locks of hair fall over Lucifer’s forehead once she switches it off, adding a layer of further childishness to his pout and furrowed brow.

“You’re having way too much fun for my liking” he reprimands her, crossing his arms over his chest, but the glint of amusement in his eyes tells her he is, too.

“That’s only because you’re not cooperating!” Chloe explains. “I just need you to turn around.”

He regards her for a long moment. It’s funny how he always puts up a fight, only to give in to her requests in the end. But after all, he wouldn’t be Lucifer if he didn’t constantly make things harder than they could be. Turns out the Lightbringer is, more often than not, also a headache-bringer.

“Fine,” he concedes eventually, “since it’s what you _desire_.”

And so it is that Chloe finds herself in the presence of divinity, a pair of white angel wings spread before her, only to spend the next ten minutes blowing hot air at them to collect and get rid of excess fluff and feathers already on their way to falling off.

Truth be told, it’s not even the weirdest thing she’s done with those feathers, but that’s a whole other story.


	3. How to... protect his virtue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to enjoy some quality time with your boyfriend when his demon is horny for Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [whopooh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whopooh/pseuds/whopooh) and [elleflies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elleflies/pseuds/elleflies)

They're sitting on the couch together, as mismatched as any family can be: the Devil and the Detective, the demon and the girl she loves to babysit. The third Indiana Jones movie plays on the screen of Chloe and Maze's TV as part of the marathon they started in the morning: it’s John Decker's birthday today (or, well, would have been) and he loved this saga. Chloe suggested it as a tribute, and everyone agreed.

Lucifer’s commentary, if anything, is only making the experience more entertaining: Chloe didn’t consider how much he'd have to say about Dear Old Dad™, but honestly, she should have known better.

“The Ten Commandments were just Gabriel handing out a grocery list to poor Moses, nothing this fancy, really” he deadpanned about the Arc of the Covenant. And now, “A cup that grants immortality? By all means, you poor sods, go look for it! _Surely_ Dad did not arrange for something to mess _that_ up!”  
  
He sits between Chloe and Mazikeen, his arms stretched on either side along the back of the couch, as if he wasn’t occupying too much space already with his broad frame and long, long limbs. Next to him, for whatever reason, Maze has been shifting uncomfortably for a while, maybe squeezed too tight between Lucifer and Trixie on her other side.

“Maze, are you okay? Do you want me to move to the chair?” Chloe’s little monkey (sadly not that little anymore) asks in adorable concern.

“I'm fine" Maze mutters as Indy and Elsa Schneider make their way through the catacombs under the library in Venice, knee-deep in petroleum-saturated waters and squirming, squealing, filthy rats. “I like this scene, by the way. Reminds me of Hell.”

“Ah, yes, I remember that loop” Lucifer comments with an expression of mild disgust. “The exterminator who always left some pests behind to be called back and make more money. His cell was conveniently emptied of any product he might need. The miscreant certainly came to regret his greedy conduct.”

“Mmm, Lucifer, you are taking me back,” Maze says, or to put it more accurately, _moans_, “_way_ back.”

Chloe furrows her brow and sits up slightly to tilt her head toward her flatmate, only to discover that Mazikeen is now sprawled on her side, positively leering, with one leg almost hooked over Lucifer’s thigh. She’s twirling one strand of her hair around one finger, her elbow on the back of the couch, as her other hand takes its time exploring Lucifer’s front from his clothed shoulder to where his shirt opens to reveal the hollow below his neck.

Of course, Lucifer looks only slightly surprised, with a glint in his eyes that speaks more of flattery and curiosity than anything else.

“Mazey, darling, the spawn is watching” he says in a low voice, not so surreptitiously tightening his arm around Chloe’s shoulder on the other side. “I'm sure we can find a more suitable time for a lovely threes-"

“Oookay!” Chloe cuts him off just in time: there is no Dan around to have him explain to Trixie what a threesome is (yes, Chloe likes to assume or pretend her daughter is entirely oblivious to these things), unlike in front of Trixie’s school where Lucifer and her ex husband first met. She still doesn’t know what exactly Dan came up with to define a hooker.

“You smell so good" Maze murmurs, practically _sniffing_ Lucifer’s neck, which isn’t something that would have taken Chloe by surprise in the early days as she witnessed what she presumed was the kind of heavy foreplay that precedes sex and knife-throwing (sexy knife-throwing?); but now, the behavior definitely strikes her as weird.

“Maze, are you-" Lucifer starts, but stops once he meets Mazikeen's gaze, focused on whatever he just found in it. “_Oh_. I see.”

He stands up abruptly and walks around the couch, putting distance between him and the rest of the gang. Trixie pauses the movie with the remote and mutters something along the lines of “Can’t catch a break", pouring all the weariness of her apparently tiring life into the words.

Maze whines, then quickly finds some form of relief by running her hand over the space Lucifer was occupying, breathing deeply through her nose, and seriously, what the Hell?!

“Lucifer, where are you going?” Chloe asks, still looking at Maze out of the corner of her eye, somehow afraid of directing her curiosity at the demon.

“Home, Detective" Lucifer replies as he gathers his jacket and car keys. “It’s that time of the year, it seems, and well… I must be _reeking_ ever since I came back. My apologies, I guess the thought didn’t occurr to me.”

“Reeking of what? What time of year?”

“Of Hell, of course" Lucifer explains with a wave of his hand, as if the answer was right under Chloe's nose. “And to answer your second question… how should I put this… _demon rut_, shall we say?”

“Demon-" Chloe starts to parrot, then her eyes widen. “Uhm, monkey? Can you go to your room for a moment, please?”

“But mom, the movie isn’t-"

“We'll keep watching later, okay?” Chloe pleads as Mazikeen lets out a blissed out sigh between them, with the dazed expression of someone who just got spectacularly high. “Just- please, please go?”

“Ugh, _fine_” Trixie grumbles, sliding off the couch. “By the way, Maze wants to have sex with Lucifer" she adds before disappearing beyond her bedroom’s door.

Great. So much for that.

Chloe pinches the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes for a moment. She has the feeling she’ll need another crash course in supernatural biology after her angel molting lesson, but right now she doesn’t have the strength for it.

“Just tell me something" she addresses Maze, who blinks at her with a drunk smile on her face. “How did you take care of it… before?”

She curses herself the moment the question leaves her mouth. Mazikeen swipes her tongue over her upper lip and looks at her pointedly.

From the front door, Lucifer calls, “Really, Detective?”

  
  
  


_ What to do: _

_1\. Suggest alternative pastimes_

If Mazikeen was a police dog, Chloe is sure the LAPD's closure rate on kidnappings, drug and weapon busts would be through the roof.

Suddenly, wherever Lucifer is, she is too. Lux. The penthouse. The precinct. Crime scenes. Their apartment (which might just be the most surprising place, considering she used to disappear for ages). Basically, it’s become impossible to have some alone time with Lucifer if not in the night (and solely in Chloe’s bedroom, given the annoying lack of a door in his).

And Maze doesn’t just… show up. She follows Lucifer silently, trailing behind him like the Devil's own shadow, occasionally crowding him into corners or hard surfaces to take a – Chloe cringes at the word – _sniff_.

Today, there’s nothing to do but paperwork, which means Lucifer is showing an unhealthy interest in a fidget spinner while Chloe is neck-deep in reports. And despite the mind-numbing boredom, despite the absolute lack of anything even remotely enjoyable to do, Mazikeen sits next to him and across from Chloe, content with massaging the back of his neck and kneading her bottom lip between her teeth.

Chloe has been assured that Maze’s arousal will be soon directed elsewhere, roughly in ten days, so she’s doing her best to ignore it. Her gaze keeps snapping back to them though, her mind distracted by the movement of Maze's hand. The frustration that comes with her task is certainly not helping her keep her cool.

“Maze?” she asks in a higher pitch than intended. “No bounties to hunt today?”

“Nope" Maze replies, popping the “p" in a way that reminds her of Lucifer. “I have nooothing to do today. Not. One. Thing. A lot of free time on my… hands.”

At the last word, on perfect cue, she shifts closer to Lucifer, and despite the stacks of papers partly blocking her view Chloe realizes her free hand has taken an adventurous dive between Lucifer’s legs. Lucifer laughs nervously as he catches the demon’s hand and gently places it back in Mazikeen’s lap.

“Detective,” he starts, briefly glancing to the side as Maze scratches at his stubble, “if you just let me help our poor Mazikeen out, I'm _sure_ she’d leave us be for a while.

“Yeah, just let him help out, Decker" Maze grins, crossing her leather-covered legs. “You can even join us if you like.”

“No, and no" Chloe declares, pointing at each of them in turn and hoping the heat in her cheeks won’t betray her.

Because, well, it’s not like she’s never imagined them together (what they'd look like, what they’d sound like – what they _did_ look and sound like, back then), but… a bigger part of her is scared of the comparison. _Especially_ if they ever decided to have sex together. It’s stupid and insecure and Lucifer doesn’t give her any reason to feel unappreciated in that regard, but it’s a can of worms better left sealed.

“You could go… take a walk?” she suggests dumbly. “A stroll on the beach? I don’t know, whatever it is that demons do?”

“So, torture someone. Gotcha.”

Mazikeen makes to stand up, and Chloe mentally slaps herself.

“No, no, no, don’t go anywhere! Uhm, you could help _me_, then! Go make some photocopies I need?”

Lucifer snorts, and Maze, as she sits back down, arches her scarred eyebrow skeptically.

“Right. Then- Ella!” Chloe calls out as the forensic scientist passes them by. “Why don’t you show Maze your lab, mm?”

“Sure thing, Chlo!” Ella, bless her heart, beams happily. “I was just analyzing a blood sample; wanna see, Maze?”

“I like blood" Maze shrugs, and for a while, that seems to be enough.

  
  
  


_2\. Use the offspring to your own advantage_

Lucifer is kissing the side of Chloe’s neck as she washes the dishes – well, tries to. The Devil has his hands on her hips and his body is warm and broad and solid behind her, but Chloe has a _job_ to do; not to mention the fact that Trixie is finishing her homework at the living room's table.

“Lucifer,” she giggles as he nuzzles behind her ear, “Trixie-"

“-couldn't care less about us" Lucifer whispers, wrapping one arm around her waist. “Plus I'm not doing anything naughty, now, am I?”

Chloe squeaks when his fingers purposefully tickle her side, then turns around to slap playfully at his chest with a soapy hand, aware of the outraged look he'll give her in response to such a heinous crime. Her hand hovers in mid-air, though, as she finds herself jumping on the spot.

“Maze! How long have you been here?!”

“Long enough” Maze smirks from where she’s leaning against a wall of the kitchen, before waving a hand at them. “But please, don’t mind me. Do go on.”

The fact that Chloe has to physically stop Lucifer from doing just that reminds her once again of what her life has become.

“We- we didn’t even hear you” she comments as she shakes her head at Lucifer, who rolls his eyes in response.

“I’m very stealthy" Maze shrugs, before her gaze turns dark again, her bared teeth intimidating. “So, what happened to my show?”

“It got cancelled” Chloe informs her.

“Seriously, Chloe, now I can’t even _watch_?” Maze complains, throwing her hands in the air. “Talk about unfair! Some friend you are.”

“Just the worst, isn’t she?” Lucifer pipes up as he leans against the counter.

Chloe glares at him before scanning the surrounding area for possible sources of distraction. Her eyes land on what is probably the best one of all.

“Monkey?” she calls, not entirely too proud of what she’s doing, “Look, Maze is here!”

“Out of the three of us, you might just be the most evil, Decker" Mazikeen mutters before Trixie slams into the side of her leg and wraps herself around her like a koala on a eucalyptus tree.

“Maze, I've missed you today! I didn’t even notice you coming in!” Trixie exclaims as she looks up at the demon in adoration. Chloe would be lying if she said the way Maze’s posture changes immediately doesn’t make her feel proud of herself.

“I've missed you too, little one" Maze smiles down at Chloe’s daughter, brushing a lock of hair away from her forehead. “How was your d- Hey, where do you think you’re going?!”

Chloe stops at the bottom of the stairs, clutching Lucifer’s hand in her own to drag him away.

“Help her finish her homework, make sure she brushes her teeth and tuck her in, yeah?”

“But-"

Chloe doesn’t hear the end of the sentence as she rushes up the stairs, a dazed but happy Devil in tow.

When she wants to, she can be stealthy, too.

  
  
  


_3\. A good frame job is in the details_

“Detective, I'll admit this is very clever of you, but… surely you can’t think he could even _remotely_ compare to yours truly.”

“He doesn’t need to compare, he just needs to keep her distracted" Chloe reminds him, before a smirk stretches across her face. “And I'll have you know he was very good in the sack. He used to do this thing with his-”

“Fine, _fine_, I'm going!” Lucifer cuts her off, settling the wrapped present a little higher under his arm. “Gosh, I'm starting to think you’re turning into a smaller, way less fashionable me.”

“Gee, so nice of you to say.”

Lucifer gives her an amused smile and leaves her desk to carry out his part of the mission. Maze is also at the precinct, having a heated argument with the vending machine. The perfect opportunity.

“Daniel, this is for you" Chloe hears Lucifer say from across the room. She silently steps away from her desk to get closer and admire her plan in motion.

Dan accepts the squared package Lucifer is offering to him, but eyes it warily. To be fair, Lucifer’s track record of pranks wouldn’t inspire a lot of trust in her either.

“What’s the occasion?” her ex husband asks suspiciously.

“Oh, you see, I realized I missed your birthday while I was… away,” Lucifer explains vaguely (Dan is basically the only one who doesn’t know who Lucifer is, and the prospect of that changing is terrifying), “so… happy belated birthday, Detective D- I mean _Dan_.”

Dan laughs openly at him. “Yeah, nice try, but I’m not opening this, dude."

Sensing the fallacy in her own (otherwise impeccable) strategy, Chloe decides to intervene.

“Dan, it really is a gift, I promise" she reassures him, stepping into his space. “Come on, open it.”

It all seems very mean and selfish, and it probably is. Then again, Chloe has seen the weird, dark stares Dan and Maze cast at each other when the demon comes to drop a bounty and collect her cheque. Maybe all this will turn out for the best? Or maybe she’s condemning her ex husband to a few days of awkwardness. Oh well. All wars have casualties.

Dan tentatively unwraps the gift after placing it on his desk. He opens the box and takes out the jacket Chloe knows has been neatly folded inside.

“Is this… yours?” Dan inquires, shooting Lucifer a puzzled look. Lucifer adjusts his cufflinks and opens his arms wide in a benevolent gesture, like a god – better not inform him of the comparison – handing out a blessing.

“Why, yes, my darling birthday boy! Had it altered specifically for you. Come now, don’t keep us waiting! Put it on, give us a twirl!”

Dan is so confused that it’s basically Lucifer the one who puts the jacket on him, helping him into it from behind. Meanwhile, the clothes Lucifer is wearing are brand new and hopefully haven’t had the time to soak up his (apparently hellish) scent, especially if combined with the amount of scented laundry detergent Chloe treated them with. He’s like a walking, talking branch of lavender who just so happens to be Satan in the flesh.

Still a long shot, but…

“Something is wrong" Maze states as she appears from behind the corner, nostrils flaring like a lion sensing the smell of a prey in the air. Her pupils dilate once her eyes stop to stare at Dan for a long moment. “Hello, Dan.”

“Hey" Dan greets her awkwardly, too focused on how the jacket fits him perfectly to notice the way Maze is undressing him with his eyes. Lucifer wore it a few days back and did not wash it before giving it to his tailor. To a demon's heightened sense of smell, it must be reeking of him. Of Hell.

“Need a partner to go catch the bad guy of the day?” Maze asks Dan almost innocently – well, as innocently as she can manage.

Dan agrees with a smile. Chloe slaps Lucifer’s shoulder to gloat. Lucifer just watches the scene in pure wonder.

“Just let me take off the-"

“Oh, no, keep it" Maze sighs, taking a long, panther-like stride. She links her arm through Dan's and leads him up the stairs, barely giving him the time to shout a “Thank you, Lucifer!” as they leave the precinct.

“What do you know, Detective,” Lucifer muses as he stares at the spot they just vacated, “we tamed a horny demon and I didn’t even have to take my clothes off. Well, technically I _did_, just not in the fun way. Alas, such a waste of a perfectly good suit.”

Later that night, as the Devil trails kisses up her naked thighs, Chloe’s phone buzzes on the nighstand. Her work ethic compels her to pick it up and read the text she just received.

_From: Dan_

_Chloe, why is Maze under my apartment’s window?_


	4. How to... stay professional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s hard to function in a professional environment when your partner, who also happens to be your boyfriend _and_ the Devil, has a strict no-underwear policy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by MoanDiary & redledgers.
> 
> This is my Merry Christmas to all the lovely people who are following this collection. I hope you enjoy it, and see you in 2020 with new fluffy chapters!

It’s not like Chloe has never noticed, before. Oh, she has, and from the start. But there was a time when she didn’t allow herself to linger (which proved useless anyway, since Lucifer took it upon himself to “show her the goods" early enough); then, a time when they drifted apart so much that it was the last thing on her mind; and finally, a time when she felt she _wasn’t_ allowed to linger: her window of possibility had closed, and there was another (_many_ others) in his bed, in his life.

And now… well, now she _does_ linger, because she can. And it seems to her as if, now that she has awakened to the revelation that is the front of Lucifer’s tight-fitting pants, all of a sudden everyone else has, too.

Rookies giggle and whisper obscenities in each other’s ear, casting long, hooded, appreciative looks that Lucifer probably notices but pretends to ignore for Chloe’s sake instead of reciprocating or commenting on it. Seasoned detectives stare a moment too long before handing over a folder to her when Lucifer is sitting at her side, the fabric of his pants scrunched and pulled by his position on the chair. There was a lawyer who clearly bit her lower lip as she watched him sit down in the interrogation room, her gaze pointing downwards. Hell, even a few _suspects_ lose their train of thought and stop babbling excuses or apologies to take him – _it_ – in.

_Is it really_ that _big?_ you may ask Chloe (or Maze, or Linda, or… a lot of other people, really). The answer is, not that much as to make you go _OhmyGodwhatisthatgetitawayfromme_. But enough to make you sigh in contemplation, and if you’re lucky enough, anticipation. Chloe is the only one who falls in the second category, now. But still.

It wouldn’t be this big of a problem, of course, if Lucifer decided to embrace a human and social convention that for some reason just doesn’t sit well with him: wearing underwear. As someone who takes pride in following fashion and customs, seamlessly blending in every time he comes to visit Earth, he is oddly allergic to such a consistent, long-lasting, universally accepted habit. Well, _globally_ accepted, at least? Maybe there is no such thing in Heaven. Would explain a lot.

Lucifer decided not to sit today, for some reason. After the initial awkwardness in suspects' eyes as they watch him sit, the table of the interrogation room usually does a good enough job at covering the lower part of his body. But no such luck. Today he stands behind Chloe, leaning against the wall of the dimly lit space to let her do the talking before stepping in to work his magic.

Problem is, some other kind of magic seems to be already working.

“Where were you between 7 and 9 PM yesterday?” Chloe asks the latest victim's most disgruntled employee, who by a lot of people’s accounts was days away from being fired by the recently departed.

“I, uh… was at… the gym" 25-year-old fashion designer Connor Grant replies slowly, his eyes flicking back and forth between Chloe’s face and a distinct point beyond her head.

“This means other customers or trainers can confirm your whereabouts at said time?”

“No, I… I meant my… uh, private gym" the guy clarifies, seemingly unable to formulate a complete sentence without taking long, increasingly focused pauses. There’s the sound of shifting, rustling fabric behind Chloe, and when she turns, she finds herself at eye-level with Lucifer’s crotch sandwiched between his now crossed legs. The bulge between is unmistakable, squeezed as it is by the muscles of his thighs and extending downward for… quite a bit.

“Lucifer,” she squeaks, swallowing audibly, “why don’t you take a seat, mm?”

“My poor legs are still recovering from that long stake-out the other day, Detective, so I'll have to decline your polite offer. But please, don’t let me distract you.”

_It's not me you’re distracting_, Chloe almost mutters through gritted teeth. She settles for flashing him a strained smile, straightening her jacket and turning back toward the suspect she has to question.

“Were you completely alone at your residence or-"

“I'm sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but… _could_ you take a seat, man?” Connor blurts out, his cheeks reddening before he adds, “It’s like it’s _staring_ at me or something.”

“Oh my God" Chloe moans as she buries her face in her hands, planting her elbows on the table. Surely Lucifer will forgive her the expression, as long as it isn’t uttered in way more pleasant circumstances.

“What is- _Oh_” comes Lucifer’s voice, not nearly as embarrassed or mortified as it should be.

When he grabs a chair and flops down on it next to her, he presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek before gracing them both with a shit-eating grin of unapologetic satisfaction, as if he just won the first prize of some competition. Somehow, Chloe has the feeling that’s how it feels to him almost 24/7: as if he’s the winner of that idiotic, unspoken but ever present macho contest among men (and now archangels, too). Dan told her stories, when they were married. Stories involving locker room showers and measuring tape.

When Connor is made to spill out what he truly desires, he speaks of reaching the top of the fashion industry and of the job he was about to accept at a rival company, a move his employer had tried to mask with firing to avoid the shame and rumors.

There seems to be no motive then, and as usual, Lucifer proves his immeasurable worth.

Yet Chloe can’t help but notice how, as the Devil leans forward over the table to ask his trademark question, the guy’s stare focuses on something else before snapping back to his hypnotizing eyes.

  
  
_ What to do: _

_1\. Search the premises (but skip the warrant)_

With a force of will that should win her a medal, Chloe manages to decline when Lucifer asks her to join him in the shower and sends him on his way with a playful slap to his lovely, lovely butt (his words, mind).

When the water starts running beyond the closed bathroom door, she takes advantage of the noise to cover her own moves as she rummages through Lucifer’s drawers, past dark-colored socks, cufflink boxes, pocket squares and… other things. Only now, she realizes that she and Linda never really went through with their snooping mission back when Lucifer went to Vegas on her birthday, distracted by his phone call and what turned out to be a failed attempt at opening his safe.

The thing is, nothing about what she finds really shocks her now as it might have back then, but the whole endeavor ends in another disappointment when she can’t find a single piece of underwear. Not. One. Nothing beside the long, loose, black silk boxers Lucifer wears in bed or to lounge around the penthouse in his robe like a young, British Hugh Hefner; a garment he certainly wouldn’t wear under his clothes because, even to someone who knows nothing about tailor-made suits, it’s obvious the lines would show.

Chloe was hoping to find something so that she could politely ask him to make good use of it. Staring at her own failure (tucked somewhere between a vibrator and a leather collar), she reflects back on a thought that crossed her mind: where exactly does this come from? What’s the dress code in Heaven? Do angels even dress at all? Again, a negative answer would explain Lucifer’s ease with nakedness, but it could also be completely unrelated.

There is someone else Chloe could ask, of course, but the idea is kind of embarrassing. Time for another search, she thinks, but this time with backup.

Amenadiel’s underwear drawer (possibly, hopefully) is in Linda's guestroom now that he moved in fulltime. The fact that Linda didn’t even question Chloe’s reasons when she asked to check it clearly is a testament to how much weirdness she’s used to by now.

“_There_!” Chloe exclaims triumphantly, waving a pair of exactly the kind of tight, elastic boxer briefs she wishes were in Lucifer’s good graces. “But why doesn’t he, then? Ugh, I don’t get it!”

“I figured this was about Lucifer" Linda muses, leaning against the door she closed behind her after entrusting Charlie to Amenadiel to keep him busy in the living room. “So people are starting to notice, uh?”

“I guess they always did" Chloe admits, then, “Wait, so you…?”

“Oh, all the time" Linda shrugs, rolling her eyes. “But you know, I stay professional.” And at Chloe’s arched eyebrow, “Okay, okay, maybe not from the very beginning.”

They smile at each other for a moment, before Chloe remembers her current predicament. “This is bad. It’s starting to affect my work. I can’t- I mean _people_ can’t concentrate around him.”

“Riiight" Linda pretends to agree, nodding in her slow, therapist-like way. She reaches Chloe by the chest of drawers and seems about to say something else, but the door opens to reveal Amenadiel with baby Charlie in his arms.

“Hey Linda, I think he’s hungr- uhm, Chloe? Why are you holding my boxer briefs in your hand?”

Oh, right. She did not put them back.

So much for avoiding embarrassment.

  
  
_2\. Sweep the problem under… stuff_

She didn’t think it could get any worse, but as with all things Lucifer, this too reaches a tipping point soon enough. The only silver lining is that the new development also leads Chloe to a solution, albeit a temporary, definitely not practical one.

She can’t say for sure what does it, honestly, and it’s not like any of it is intentional. She’s just sitting at her desk, nibbling at her pen absentmindedly as she checks a suspect's rap sheet on the computer. Across from her, Lucifer is playing some game on his phone, glancing at her every now and then.

Chloe stretches back on the chair, lifting her arms upwards, and decides to take the opportunity to untie her ponytail and let her hair loose for a while. She gets a headache sometimes, from how tight the elastic band is, and unless she’s in the field there is no harm in letting her locks breathe for a while. As she ruffles them up a bit, she notices Lucifer staring at her a bit more intently, his thumb hovering over his phone screen.

Her puzzled look receives no answer, so she settles back and bites her lip in thought, suddenly unable to find the stapler she wanted to use on the papers she sent to print. She leans forward to search among the stacks of folders piled on the desk, her hair framing her face and cascading downwards, bobbing with the motion much like the fabric of her loose blouse.

“Hey, can you help me find the stapler?” she asks Lucifer, peering down at him properly now that she’s basically stretched over the surface separating them.

That’s when Ella passes them by and says casually, “Well, damn! Happy to see me, Luce? Oh, you flatter me!”

Lucifer lifts his index finger and opens his mouth to object, but seems to think better of it as he watches the tiny forensic scientist walk back to her lab with a chuckle.

“Detective, I assure you, _this_”, he gestures to his tented crotch, “is 100% you. Miss Lopez is more like a sister to me- Granted, I _did_ suggest a trip to Pound Town back in the early days, but now I don’t-"

“Lucifer,” Chloe sighs, closing her eyes for a moment, “that is _so_ not the point.”

She looks around for something, _anything_, but all she can do is take a manila folder and drop it in his lap to cover his enthusiasm. Lucifer winces and shoots her a glare.

“Come now, I thought you would be flattered, much like Miss Lopez” he tells her, winking seductively.

Chloe groans in frustration because, well, she kind of is. “Just, uh… keep it covered while you… you know, calm down?” she suggests, fumbling.

Lucifer stares at her for a long moment. “A good old-fashioned wank will be way more efficient, Detective" he concludes with the nonchalance of someone deciding what to order for dinner. “I'll be right back.”

As he stands up, Chloe suspects he keeps the folder pressed to his front more for her sake than his own.

In the days that follow, she finds that boxes serve the purpose just as well, so instead of dropping them on her desk, she deposits them in Lucifer’s lap, effectively using him like a second piece of furniture. On crime scenes? Easy, she asks him to hold the extra jacket she put on, knowing full well she’d end up feeling hot.

Can this go on forever, though? Certainly not.

She can _definitely_ do better.

  
  
_3\. Trick him with kindness_

Christmas this year brings along the usual joy and happiness and streak of loneliness-induced suicides, together with a permanent solution to Chloe’s problem.

She sees them on a few mannequins in the window of a clothing store as she runs some errands, stopping in her tracks to take a couple of steps back and look more intently.

The thought of Lucifer wearing them is ridiculous, but she _knows_ he will if the gift will come from her. She enters the store and buys a full supply, with a range of different patterns and color combinations. The clerk’s face makes it clear that he’s wondering whether she has multiple partners to surprise, or just one who hasn’t owned a single piece of underwear in his life.

They unwrap presents under the Christmas tree in Chloe and Maze’s living room, except for Dan who dropped by earlier to give his to Trixie before departing on some kind of single-men-only getaway with a small group of police academy old buddies. Lucifer doesn’t really _do_ Christmas, except for a party at Lux with dancers in sexy Santa costumes, but once Chloe told him she bought him something he decided he had to reciprocate and the whole thing got extended to Mazikeen as well.

Chloe awkwardly thanks the demon for the impressive dildo she received from her, quickly hiding the package under a pillow before it catches Trixie’s attention. Maze mutters a “So badass" as she plucks the earrings Chloe bought her from the box to wear them, the two silver knives glimmering under the Christmas lights as they curve along the line of her lobes.

Trixie receives a bow and arrow from Maze (Chloe is already in mourning for what is left of her walls) and a proverbial stack of cash from Lucifer, tucked in a paper folder that says on the front “Use it unwisely" followed by a winking devil emoji. Chloe makes a mental note to check how much it is exactly, and then set a limit to Lucifer’s good will before he ends up buying her daughter a Ferrari out of boredom or something.

Lucifer’s gift to her turns out to be the latest edition of Cluedo – “Monopoly is too much up my alley, Detective, so I thought I'd even things out" he explains, and the domesticity of him _planning_ future game nights makes Chloe smile and plant a kiss to his cheek. They are all sitting with their legs crossed on the carpet and the lights cast a rainbow of colors on their faces, on _his_ face, giving him a boyish appearance that makes her chest ache.

When he finally opens Chloe’s gift to him, Lucifer looks… confused, for a moment. His gaze turns amused pretty soon, though, as he inspects the Santa hats, gingerbread houses, raindeers, Christmas trees, snowflakes and candy canes dotting the many boxer briefs she bought, all with tight elastic bands on top for maximum… containment.

Understanding dawns on him in the form of a chuckle and a shake of his head, a glint of something like pride in his eyes.

“Well played, Detective" he concedes. “Well played indeed.”

When Chloe goes back to work, she glimpses him through the glass of the meeting room with a Santa hat on his head, pressed tightly around his hair in the back so that the elegant, coiffed strand in the front juts out and sideways. He looks like an unnaturally tall and very naughty elf, and she can’t help but giggle as she approaches.

The cops around him don’t seem to share his enthusiasm, but their eyes are clearly directed downwards, _again_. Once Chloe gets close enough, she realizes Lucifer has unzipped his pants to show everyone the gift she bought for him, defying its very purpose in the process.

“Detective!” he calls when he notices her beyond the glass, zipping his pants back up in his haste to join her in the bullpen. He produces a second hat out of nowhere and places it on her head, shifting and pulling at it until he seems satisfied with the result.

“There you go" he smiles, looking proud of himself and showing the giddiness of a kid who just enjoyed his first Christmas ever, and Chloe decides that for once, it’s okay for her plans to go awry.


	5. How to... help him sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s hard to take care of a sleep-deprived Devil who is hell-bent on hanging upside down from the ceiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #18 of Fluffuary 2020: wing grooming. Original idea of bat!Lucifer by ObliObla; special thanks to emynii who inspired the bat wing grooming. Because the Devil wings need love and care, too ❤
> 
> Happy New Year, everyone! Enjoy!

It hasn’t been all rainbows and unicorns since Lucifer came back, of course. Some therapy sessions leave him giddy and excited over a new epiphany he can’t wait to explore, a new piece of the puzzle to fit in to put himself back together after Hell tried to reclaim him for itself for a while. Others, instead, leave him brooding or moody or plain irritated, giving a slight edge of cruelty to his jokes and remarks that Chloe has learned how to ignore until the clouds clear from his stormy gaze.

Lately, though, he seems to have a hard time sleeping. He jerks awake at night, startling her even though he does try not to disturb her, but Chloe’s body has become too attuned to his not to notice. He asks her not to follow him when he slips out of bed, kissing her forehead before disappearing; in the morning, Chloe usually finds him asleep on his or her couch, depending on where they spent the night, or sitting under the windowsill in her living room with a cigarette precariously dangling from between his fingers.

It wasn’t his fault. It was no one’s fault, really, aside from the gunman who pulled the trigger as he fled from the agents pursuing him. Around Chloe, Lucifer is as human as his nature allows, and a hit to the back of his head when the criminal sneakily circled around him in the warehouse was enough to leave him unconscious for a while. Another agent reached the perp before Chloe, but the fugitive shot first. As a result, the LAPD is mourning the death of another rookie in the field, triggering Lucifer into remembering the Joan incident with Julian Tiernan.

Back then, Chloe had assumed Eve would take care of him. Back then, she let him leave the scene in stunned silence and only later discovered he went and broke the culprit’s back to deliver the punishment he felt was his domain. It’s not a concern she has anymore (plus the guy has already been apprehended), but she _does_ worry about his state of mind, about the guilt he shouldn’t be feeling.

And so one night, Chloe ignores his request to be left alone. She waits for a bit, debating with herself whether his desire for privacy should be respected, but in the end it’s the less rational side of her that wins the war. As silently as she can, she leaves Lucifer’s bed and tiptoes out of the bedroom and into the main area of the penthouse. When she turns the corner, she’s greeted with a sight she never even thought possible.

Lucifer is indeed asleep, but not on the couch. He’s sleeping _in the air_. Upside down. Hanging. From. The. Damned. Ceiling.

Chloe blinks and rubs at her eyes for a moment, making sure she isn’t having a bad dream herself.

Nope. It’s real. Lucifer is still there.

His body sways slightly, the rise and fall of his chest only faintly perceivable inside the tight cocoon created by his Devil wings. Chloe’s breath gets stuck in her throat when she realizes he’s completely transformed: she can see two sets of claws hooked around the rafter above, can make out that his frame is definitely larger than usual under the red, veiny membranes; and once her eyes adjust to the semi-darkness, she can glimpse his bald head peeking underneath.

Okay. Fine. No big deal. When he assumes this form, Lucifer sleeps like a bat, who cares! It’s totally normal after all. The angel wings molt like those of birds, so… this makes sense, right? Yep. Nothing weird or out of the ordinary here. Nothing at all.

Except that her boyfriend is hanging from the ceiling and Chloe is freaking out.

She thinks she’s doing it fairly silently, but she must be wrong, because Lucifer starts to stir groggily until two ruby red eyes are staring at her in the barely-lit penthouse.

“Detect- _aaah!_”

Startled, Lucifer has moved too abruptly, spreading his wings and losing his grip from around the ceiling beam he was dangling from. He falls to the floor with a yelp, his body turning human _mid-fall_ except for the wings, and thankfully lands on his back instead of hitting his head or breaking his neck.

“Lucifer!”

Chloe rushes towards him and kneels beside him to help him sit up. The wing on the other side is outstretched away from his torso, while the one closest to her got trapped under his body and lies awkwardly folded under his arm.

“Bollocks" Lucifer comments with a pained sigh, rubbing at the arm that clearly bore the impact. He lifts his gaze to look at her uncertainly, visibly worried by what she might think. Chloe immediately feels guilty for losing her composure and startling him this way, which only gets worse once she glances down.

“Your wing! Oh, Lucifer, I'm so sorry!”

Only now Lucifer seems to realize that there is a hole in it, or more accurately a tear, probably caused by his elbow pushing through it when he fell.

“Lovely" he simply says, rolling his eyes.

“Should I… leave?” Chloe asks with renewed guilt and shame. It’s still hard to live with the knowledge that whenever he gets hurt, it’s her presence that makes it possible.

Her concern seems to endear him, melting his insecurities and his annoyance away. “Oh no, don’t worry, darling. I think these ones will heal on their own regardless of where you are" he tells her.

_Like bat wings_, Chloe recalls from a documentary she watched with Trixie a while ago. _The membrane glues itself back together so they can fly again._

For Lucifer's Dad's sake, when did her life become a NatGeo special?

  
  
_ What to do: _

_1\. Provide a comfortable environment_

Chloe actually has no intention of addressing the issue, in the beginning, mostly because it isn’t an issue if she just makes sure not to walk in on Lucifer when he decides to go in full Devil-sleep-mode, as he calls it. This form seems to be a manifestation of his recently misplaced guilt, and she knows he is working on it with Linda, so what she can do is offer comfort when he allows it, and leave him space when he seems to need it, and _definitely_ not make a fuss about this new, absolutely not disconcerting habit of his.

That is, until he falls again with a loud thump that wakes her up in the middle of the night, followed by an exasperated “Bloody hell" that makes her chuckle before going to check on him.

The previous gash has indeed healed, and there is no damage done this time, but Chloe has identified a problem, and whenever that happens she finds herself unable to let things be or, well, let sleeping Devils lie (literally on the floor).

So the next time Lucifer falls, it’s on an air mattress Chloe managed to sneak in (sealed in its box and hidden inside her overnight bag), inflate in the bedroom once he left for the living area of the penthouse, and place under him while he slept. After a few hours, she still hears a sound, but when she goes to check, she finds that Lucifer didn’t even wake up after falling and has already curled in on himself on the air bed, human feet and dark hair peeking out from the bottom and the top of what she could only describe as a bat-burrito.

Seeing him this way makes these wings seem less ominous, stripping them of that gothic sense of impending doom they used to carry with them. They are not the stuff of nightmares anymore: they’re just two appendages he uses for cover, two limbs with a function, a purpose.

Chloe dares to lean closer and trace one of the long black lines that run down their length with her index finger, before following an intricate web of thin veins over the expanse of the membrane. The wing looks almost see-through from up close, and oddly enough, she can’t help but compare Lucifer’s sleeping figure to that of a fetus in the womb, curled up in a ball and equally shielded from the outside world.

When she strokes his ruffled hair, Lucifer makes a happy humming sound before instinctively tightening his wings around himself, disappearing inside his makeshift, breathing pod. Chloe laughs softly to herself, pulls her hand back and goes back to sleep in his bed.

She finds him next to her when she wakes up in the morning, wings gone, his cheek propped on his palm as he stares at her while laying on his side.

“Aren’t you a clever little Detective" he greets her when she opens her eyes and turns to look at him, mirroring his position.

“It appears so, yes" Chloe agrees, smiling with pride. Lucifer’s playfulness falters then, replaced with something deeper and more serious.

“Why didn’t you tell me you bought it? I would have helped you set it up.”

“I thought you wouldn’t have admitted that you needed help,” Chloe replies, “and I guess I wanted to surprise you.”

Lucifer simply chuckles in response, then leans in to give her a sweet peck on the lips.

“I'm sorry for this… inconvenience” he tells her sheepishly. “It just… relaxes me, is all.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me. Never” Chloe reassures him, before a thought occurs to her. “Just don’t drink my blood or anything, yeah?”

Lucifer laughs, a high-pitched and delighted sound that fills the morning air with music. “You do know only one species of bats feeds on blood, right? There’s a higher chance you’ll find me eating a mosquito.”

“Ew" Chloe comments, her face scrunching up. “Please, don’t. Your charms can only make up for so much.”

“How _dare_ you?”

  
  
_2\. Protect his pride_

“Lucifer told me what you did the other night" Linda whispers secretly in Chloe's ear, sitting next to her in one of the more private booths at Lux. “I suppose there’s no harm in telling you that I found it absolutely _adorable_.”

“Thanks" Chloe smiles a bit shyly, glancing at the piano where Lucifer just sat for his performance of the night. She knows that for a while he’ll just sit there, entertaining those bold enough to approach him for favors or just for the luxury of having a chat with him, hoping it will lead to something else – something that will never come, not anymore.

It’s almost absurd to her, how they fail to see what he is, how _much_ of everything he is, but then she chastises herself and remembers how blind she has been for a long, long time.

“What was absolutely adorable?” Maze pipes up, her demon sense of hearing clearly capable of picking up Linda’s whispering even with the background music engulfing them.

“I'm sorry, Maze,” Linda starts a sentence she has said at least one hundred times, “you know I can’t discuss-"

“Does it have something to do with the bat thing?” Mazikeen cuts her off, excitement shining almost feral in her eyes.

“I'm sorry, what?” Linda asks her, scandalized. “How do you-"

“You were out for lunch the other day when I dropped by to have a chat, so I let myself in" Maze explains, shrugging. “I was bored, so I took a peek at your notes about him. Ugh, I really don’t envy you, he’s so damn _whiny_. But I'll admit, that _is_ kind of cute.”

Chloe gapes at her in shock. Sometimes she forgets that Maze still lacks a _lot_ of boundaries, despite the undeniable progress she has already made.

“Maze, you can’t tell him you know about it. Please, he- I don’t want him to be embarrassed or anything” she pleads, dreading the teasing jokes that are probably already forming inside the demon's head.

“Yeah, and also, _never do that again_” Linda interjects, her eyes hard and stern and her index finger pointing accusingly at Mazikeen. The demon lifts her hands as if surrendering in front of a gun, impressed by the therapist’s threatening stance.

“Fine, fine, I'm sorry, or whatever" she concedes, rolling her eyes. “That means I can’t buy him a Batman costume for his fake birthday?”

“_No_” Chloe and Linda answer in unison, scowling. Maze pouts.

“You people always spoil my fun.”

When Lucifer finally gets rid of his suitors and starts pouring his heart and soul in his rendition of _All Of Me_, it’s clear who the song is for, and it would be even without the looks he keeps directing at her. His deep, smooth voice captures everyone present in a trance; that is, everyone but Maze, who keeps rolling her eyes and making disgusted groans. Chloe remembers clearly that Maze has serenaded a certain someone, too, but knows better than to point it out.

“Batman would never be this cheesy" the demon comments as the last notes of the song fade into a momentary silence, followed by cheers and claps from the audience.

“I think it’s romantic" Linda offers with a huge grin, “and I was never much of a fan of the Dark Knight. He’s always too… broody.”

“You had sex with Amenadiel, for crying out loud" Maze scoffs, earning herself a glare.

“Well, so did-"

“What are my favorite ladies chatting about, eh?” Lucifer asks as he appears at their table, before elegantly falling on the cushion next to Chloe and lifting his arm to drape it over her shoulders. “My unmatchable prowess in the sheets, perhaps? I know women _love_ to compare notes.”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself" Maze chastises him, distracting him enough for him not to notice the guilty look Chloe and Linda are surreptitiously sharing. Because, well. Of course they have done that, even though not just now, but Lucifer doesn’t need to find out.

“We were talking about how good you were up there" Chloe decides to tell him instead, before kissing him on the cheek. Lucifer smiles proudly at her, always eager to be praised.

“Say, did you ever picture yourself driving something different, Lucifer?” Mazikeen pipes up then, innocently swirling her straw inside what is at least her fifth cocktail of the night. “Something… bigger? With more features, maybe?”

“What, like an SUV? You really think I could go around driving one of those bloody monstrosities? Please, Maze, think about my reputation.”

Linda visibly elbows Maze in the ribs, causing Lucifer to furrow his brow, but the demon ignores the attempt. “I see. And did you ever consider hiring a butler?”

“No?” Lucifer replies around a chuckle, utterly confused. “Seriously Maze, where are you going with this?”

“Nowhere" Chloe answers before Maze can, but she has the feeling they won’t be able to hold their friend’s tongue for much longer at this rate. “Why don’t _we_ go somewhere instead, mm?” she adds, nudging Lucifer’s side until he gets the hint and slides out of the booth so she can do the same. Then, in a moment of boldness that might have something to do with the alcohol she drank, “You could give me an excuse to have more notes to compare.”

Lucifer’s smile brightens as if he just won the lottery (not that he needs it, but still). “Detective, what a marvellous idea!” he exclaims, clapping his hands together. “Will you excuse me, darlings? It seems I have business to attend to.”

  
  


_3\. Treat with special care_

The mattress, of course, is not the end of it, because _falling_ is not the end of it.

She starts to notice a different sort of texture to the wings, whenever she goes to check on Lucifer sleeping from the rafter of the penthouse. He’s getting better at keeping his grip around it, so she doesn’t really need to do this, but curiosity is a hard beast to tame and it’s not every day that you get to see something like this. Once she managed to go past the craziness of it, the image started to seem… endearing, in a way.

She works up the courage to bring it up when it’s clear she – they – can’t ignore it anymore. It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon and after a morning spent in bed basking in each other, they’re sitting on the couch watching random shows on TV without really paying attention to it, Chloe’s head on Lucifer’s bare shoulder and his thumb stroking the side of her hand in idle, absentminded circles.

Then he starts shifting, again and again, as if unable to find a comfortable position. He straightens his back away from the couch and winces, prompting Chloe to pull back and look at him for a long moment.

“You can let them out, you know" she says almost casually, but with clear intent in her eyes when Lucifer turns around to look at her in surprise.

“No,” he replies, clenching his jaw, “it’s bad enough that you had to see them again.”

Chloe sighs and squeezes his hand. “Lucifer, you don’t have to hide from me. Not anymore. And I think… forgive me if this feels like overstepping, but I think you’re not taking proper care of them.”

Lucifer’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Oh?” he inquires with barely concealed outrage.

“I, uhm… did some research?” Chloe explains, although for some reason it comes out in the form of a question, a request for approval. Because the idea of her doing research aside from police work, research about _him_, is… let’s say, tainted by a very bad precedent.

“Did you, now?” Lucifer scoffs, removing his hand from her grasp; the way his walls go up is almost shockingly sudden sometimes, his demeanor changing in the blink of an eye. “And what haunting pictures did you find _this_ time? More images of me eating babies?”

Chloe swallows around the lump of guilt in her throat and tries to ignore his attempt at starting a fight for the sake of her mission. “I meant research about bat wing care, Lucifer. I didn’t put _Devil wings_ in the search bar.”

She might as well have, considering the first results that came up on her laptop screen when she typed _How to take care of bat wings_. Turns out that’s a term for the flabby, hanging fat some people have under their upper arms, and that the Internet is full of videos and written tutorials on how to get rid of them in a specific amount of weeks. Adding words like “vet" and “wildlife" did the trick, but that first fail was quite hilarious.

Lucifer’s hard expression softens, his features relaxing. A reverent smile blossoms on his face once he finally realizes that she was trying to be prepared to help him if needed. He takes her hand again, and Chloe squeezes it encouragingly.

“Show me" she tells him. “It’s okay.”

Lucifer struggles with the prospect for a moment, still flinching and shifting uncomfortably, until he eventually nods to himself and turns around to give his back to her, bracing himself with one arm over the back of the couch. The Devil wings appear in a whoosh from his skin, but remain half-closed against his sides, and not because he has no space to spread them.

“They require more ventilation" Chloe explains to him softly, trying not to sound too patronizing, not sure if he already knows all that she discovered, but somehow decided to ignore its importance. “You need to let them out to get some air more often, otherwise they get… dry.”

Lucifer’s chuckle rumbles from his chest, the wings slightly shaking with it. “I'm sure _that_ won’t cause a scene at the precinct” he jokes.

“You could when you’re home, and in the weekends when I stay here. I don’t mind" Chloe reassures him. She tentatively reaches forward to try and pry one open, ignoring Lucifer’s sharp intake of breath at the unexpected, overwhelming first contact, but the membrane is sticking together awkwardly; another side effect of them staying enclosed in a space that presumably isn’t ventilated or humid enough.

“Don’t move, I'll be right back.”

She leaves Lucifer there to go to the bathroom and then the kitchen. When she flops back on the couch behind him, she has a bowl of tepid water in her lap, to which she added a small amount of salt like she read on the Internet.

“I'm going to touch them again now" she decides to inform him this time, so he doesn’t jump. Lucifer nods minutely, his body tense like a bow string.

She dips the washcloth she brought along with her in the bowl and gently swipes it down the length of the right wing, from the clawed, arched thumb on top to the sharp, pointed tip at the bottom. She repeats the motion several times, always squeezing the washcloth over the bowl not to wet the wings too much, and slowly manages to separate the different parts from one another, dampening the previously dry and sort of chafed skin.

“They’re beautiful, you know" she finds herself saying to fill the silence, but she realizes it truly is what she thinks. “I don’t like the _reason_ they come out, but they’re still a part of you, and you shouldn’t be ashamed of _any_ part of you.”

Lucifer is quiet for a long, long moment, still as a stone under her care, a winged gargoyle on the façade of a cathedral. “You really think so?” he whispers then, a small and tentative sound.

“I know so" Chloe replies. Emboldened and lulled into a new sense of familiarity, she leans closer and presses a soft kiss between Lucifer’s shoulder blades. There are no spikes when he’s like this, half-human in appearance, and there is a different beauty about him that she’s not sure she can explain, a beauty she knows he does not see – that of all things wild and restless and untamed, as he is.

While the angel wings extend out of his body in an almost natural curve, pink skin turning to longer and longer feathers, the transition here is made of sharp and stark lines, without anything soft to conceal where the wings protrude out of his back as if erupting from it, almost like they clawed their way out.

This is how he sees himself, it pains her to think. If she had to rationalize it, she’d say that maybe even the imagery he so despises has something to do with it, that Lucifer subconsciously embraces the idea of himself as a dragon, as the monster of the Scriptures – _The great dragon was hurled down—that ancient serpent called the devil, or Satan, who leads the whole world astray._  


After all, who defines what a monster is? Certainly not the monster itself, but everyone else.

The kiss is rewarded with a sigh, with Lucifer’s posture finally relaxing. Once the right wing seems to be able to extend properly, Chloe starts to work on the other one, wiping every inch of it with the same caution. The TV provides a pleasant buzz in the background as she does so, giving her ministrations an everyday, comfortable feel, as if what she’s doing is no weirder than braiding her daughter’s hair or giving Lucifer a massage.

And it isn’t.

Because that ancient serpent called the devil, or Satan, has made _her_ world come alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI: the Google incident actually happened to _me_ so I just _had_ to put it into the fic. You never stop learning new things, lol.
> 
> Hope you liked the chapter and see you soon with a new one!  
Hint: 🐶🐶🐶


	6. How to... make friends with his pet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s hard to accept that your boyfriend got himself a puppy when said puppy is a three-headed hellhound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #10 of Fluffuary 2020: pets. Inspired by [this](https://twitter.com/Violet_NotBlue/status/1197552742144724992?s=19) lovely fanart.

“No, not the couches, they’re Italian!” Lucifer’s frustrated voice greets Chloe and Trixie as they enter the penthouse, ready to pick him up and go watch Frozen 2 together (yep, they are _that_ convincing). “Get down from- no, bad, _bad_! Come back here, you bloody son of a Hellish b- _Detective_!”

Luckily enough, the curse dies in Lucifer’s throat as soon as he sees them standing at the entrance, their mouths agape as they take in the state of the apartment. The leather of the sofas is torn in multiple places, books and precious memorabilia from entirely _too_ ancient times lie scattered on the floor, and the stools along the bar are all upturned or broken in half.

In the center of the room, Lucifer pushes a rebel strand of hair back with the palm of his hand, a telltale gesture of barely controlled awkwardness, and smiles too brightly, somehow hoping it will be enough to reassure Chloe and Trixie of the fact that everything is okay.

It isn’t.

Chewing on a piece of chocolate-colored leather at his feet, there is a _massive_ black dog with _three_ fuck- sorry, children present – _freaking_ heads, all identical to one another. They wrestle with each other for the unlucky piece of furniture that clearly became their meal, as if having three separate minds, sharp canines snapping and biting at each other’s noses and jaws until all three have managed to obtain a portion big enough to be considered satisfying.

Trixie, despite her habit to be totally unfazed by all things not of this world, lets out a shriek of terror and jumps behind Chloe, turning back to being the little girl scared of lions and tigers at the zoo that Chloe misses more and more as her daughter grows into an independent woman who soon won’t need her at all.

She holds Trixie close to her back and assumes a protective stance, trying not to freak out herself. The dog has acknowledged Trixie’s shout with a sudden twist of its head- _heads_, but thankfully has decided not to do anything about the probably delicious mortals now present in the room. All six of the animal's eyes are red, like Lucifer's when he loses control, and now that she pays more attention, she notices that the beast's tail has the shape of a snake – but no, not just the shape: it _is_ a snake, rattling angrily but apparently not requiring any nourishment at the moment.

“Lucifer, what is _that_?” Trixie yelps, pointing a shaky finger in the hound's direction. Lucifer, God help them, decides to play nonchalant.

“Well, what does it look like to you, child? I thought the three heads were pretty self-explanatory. Seriously, Detective, what _do_ they teach them in school these days?”

Chloe pinches the bridge of her nose and takes a deep breath. “You’re telling me that is Cerberus? From the Greek myth? So this is a thing, too?!” she asks, her voice getting higher and higher in pitch until it’s shrill to the point of ridiculousness.

“Another legend come alive, isn’t your life exciting? Leave it to your resident Devil to always keep things interesting" Lucifer praises himself, gesturing at his body with a cocky expression on his face. Chloe arches one eyebrow at him, clearly not impressed in the least.

“And what is it doing here?” she asks as Cerberus discards what is left of its lunch and looks up at Lucifer expectantly, as if waiting for an order from its… master. Sometimes, Lucifer can be so deceivingly mundane that Chloe finds herself forgetting he’s the King of Hell.

“I, uh… as you know, I still pop down there every now and then to make sure eveything is in order. I got ready too soon and I decided to make good use of my spare time. Problem is, Cerberus seems to have grown… nostalgic. The demons said he barely eats anymore.” One sad look down at what is left of the couch. “Well, at least we solved _that_ issue.”

Chloe opens her mouth to reply (_So what, you just decided to go for a walk with it and forgot to send it back?_), but Trixie beats her to it, her voice surprisingly fond and full of awe.

“So that’s your _puppy_? And he was _missing_ you?” she asks almost with literal hearts in her eyes, stepping aside and away from Chloe’s body, and no, no, no, this isn’t going to end well _at all_.

“This is no _puppy_,” Lucifer scoffs, gesturing at the objectively terrifying creature, “this was the keeper of the Underworld’s gates before Dear Old Dad decided a more sentient being had to be assigned to the task. Although, now that you make me think about it…”

He utters a command at the dog in a language Chloe doesn’t know nor recognize, harsh and seemingly impossible to replicate, full of sharp, guttural noises and strange clicks of tongue. On cue, the hound transforms right under their eyes, its unnaturally spiked back shifting and rippling like the desert horizon in a mirage until the animal crouching at Lucifer’s feet has indeed the appearance of a puppy of the same breed, if there was such a thing, and a normal fluffy tail instead of a living, moving reptile attached to its body.

“Can’t you have it get rid of the two extra heads, too?” Chloe asks, swallowing around the lump in her throat. She just witnessed something impossible but there is no point in dwelling on it too much; better get straight to the practical business of _taking care of a dog from Hell_.

“Nope,” Lucifer shrugs, “this is the maximum he can pull off to appear less threatening, and believe me, it required _a lot_ of training. Once I had no use of his aggressive nature, I figured a smaller version would have been easier to feed, but in my absence, no one seems to have bothered with keeping him in line.”

The hound suddenly jumps to clutch at Lucifer’s leg with its now little claws, mouths half-open and panting and red eyes full of adoration. Lucifer pushes it off in exasperation and smooths the lines of his suit meticulously.

“Of course, I forgot how annoyingly _playful_ the wretched little thing can be in this form” he mumbles before a deep sigh.

A moment of silence follows.

“Mom, why don’t we adopt him then? Please, mom, please!”

_This_, Chloe thinks, _is going to be a_ – oh screw it, she can at least think it – _fucking disaster._

  
  
_What to do:_

_1\. Take a leap of faith (the irony)_

The excitement of the recent discovery is so overwhelming that Trixie seems to forget they had to go watch a movie in the first place. The fact that Cerberus can’t will itself to look like a normal dog turns out to be a blessing when Chloe points out the obvious consequence: they can’t keep it in their house, where other people might see it and book themselves into an institution, or worse, summon an exorcist from the Vatican after a one-month-long mental breakdown.

It could happen to anyone, okay? It’s not _that_ strange of a reaction.

Convinced but visibly unhappy, Trixie takes one step forward toward the animal, but Chloe’s arm shoots to the side to block her with a hand over her daughter’s chest.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Behind them, the ding of the elevator precedes the opening of its doors.

“Did I leave one of my knives- _Cerberus_! Oh, it’s you! I've missed you so much, you devious little rascal!”

“Of course she loves the dog" Chloe comments with a roll of her eyes as Maze practically launches herself at the puppy to gather it in her arms on the floor. Cerberus laps at her chin and cheeks with all three of its pinkish tongues, waggling its tail excitedly. In this very moment, it looks like an ordinary puppy eager for praise and cuddles, if it wasn’t for the two extra appendages and sets of eyes burning with flames from within.

Mazikeen rolls with Cerberus on the floor, positively _giggling_ under its onslaught, something Chloe isn’t sure she has ever seen the demon do. Laugh, chuckle, cackle, sneer, but this… this is totally new and, to be frank, kind of adorable. Best not to say it out loud, though.

Chloe’s heart starts to warm for the creature: she’s never been a pet person (especially after her mother's chihuahua bit her on the ass), but she still enjoys cute Youtube videos and, mostly, finds dogs' loyalty particularly endearing. She knows from a few friends of the K-9 unit that the bond between them and their police dogs is deep and meaningful, and the idea of Lucifer having such a connection in a place as harsh as Hell is… comforting. She wonders why he never mentioned it before, but then again, he doesn’t like to talk about Hell in general and the fear of Chloe deciding all this is too much is probably still raging somewhere inside of him.

“You, uh,” she swallows, “you can go pet it if you want, Monkey, but be careful.” She lets Trixie advance toward the heap of Hellish limbs and paws on the floor, but then hesitates and turns to Lucifer. “It’s- it’s safe, right?”

Lucifer looks at her for a long moment, his eyes warm as he takes in her change of heart. He seems to act annoyed by the dog but Chloe isn’t sure about how much of it is for show. He’s _so_ not a dog person, and yet, she remembers him talking specifically against cats, but never dogs; and knows from Dan’s account that he actually tried to take care of a pregnant one during a case (and made a mess of his desk in the process).

Granted, he was using it as a substitute for Trixie in some convoluted attempt at understanding Chloe's way of thinking, but hey, A for effort either way.

That rough, weird language erupts from his lips again, so natural and yet so foreign. Something from Hell, no doubt, because recognition lights up Mazikeen’s face as she strokes Cerberus behind each of its six ears, still sitting on the floor between them. The dog looks up at the words, then turns toward Trixie and pants with renewed joy, expectant.

“It’s safe" Lucifer reassures Chloe while gesturing for Trixie to come closer. Trixie does, kneeling next to Maze. The image of her daughter petting a three-headed animal will undoubtedly never leave Chloe’s mind.

“What did you tell him?” Chloe asks, allowing a hint of affection to creep into her choice of words, if only for a moment. On the floor, Cerberus jumps in Trixie’s lap and licks the tip of her nose with one of its tongues, making her face scrunch up adorably.

“That you’re family" Lucifer replies with a soft smile.

  
  
_2\. Observe and take notes_

After Cerberus settles in Lucifer’s penthouse indefinitely, Chloe learns a lot of things. For one, a dog from Hell doesn’t eat dog food. More specifically, it eats _everything_ but dog food. It takes a half-hour-long tirade for the animal to stop attacking whatever is chewable in the apartment and settle for the raw steak Lucifer ordered from a nearby butcher shop.

“He’d be happier if it was rotting, but I won’t allow that stench to soil my penthouse” Lucifer mutters as the four of them watch the small hellhound devour a piece of meat twice the size of its body from a bowl they set under the bar.

_After all, it has three mouths to feed_, Chloe reasons to herself, _but supposedly one stomach. How does it even work?_ Ugh, this nasty habit to try and make sense of things is only getting in the way at this point.

“Does he know how to play fetch?” Trixie asks, her chin on her palms and a look of wonder in her eyes. Chloe is still shocked by the fact that her daughter doesn’t feel the need to brag about any of this with her classmates, despite how awesome her life has become, according to her own words.

“You could teach him" Lucifer shrugs, then turns pensive. “A three-headed dog running after a stick in the park is bound to turn some heads, I suppose, but I'm sure it will be dandy.”

“Lucifer, we can’t take it to park" Chloe objects. “People will run for their lives.”

“Come now, I'm sure we can come up with a fake deformity to justify his… condition.”

“Oh, sure. As for the rest, we’ll just say we gave it _contact lenses_. With actual _fire_ in them.”

Lucifer rolls his eyes. “Have you seen what people do to their dogs these days, Detective? If 60-year-old women can tie ribbons to their poodles' fur and dress them up like dolls, I'm sure the King of Hell can get away with _that_.”

“So you’re keeping him?” Maze asks, sounding surprised. “Here, on Earth?”

Lucifer sighs and stares at the dog more intently. The puppy chooses this moment to scurry back toward them and crouch at Lucifer’s feet. Six red eyes look up asking for ear scratches. If Chloe could manage not to look any lower, she could pretend Lucifer just adopted three identical puppies, but the way the necks merge into one tiny body is impossible to ignore.

“I don’t know" Lucifer replies, giving in to the dog’s request. The way the two momentarily neglected faces pout as they wait for their turn is honestly one of the funniest things Chloe has ever seen. “The Detective might have a point. It could get tricky.”

_The understatement of the decade._

“Not if I teach him to look more ordinary" Maze offers with a proud smile. “No offense, my King, but I don’t think you were as talented as you wanted us all to believe" she adds mockingly, emphasizing a title she never uses anymore. Lucifer shoots her a glare.

“By all means, Maze, be my guest. But don’t come crying to me when he bites your hand off.”

“But he won’t do that, will you, you cheeky Devil?” Maze addresses Cerberus directly, reaching down to pick it up and deposit the puppy in her lap. “Not after all the bad demons we killed together, yes, that’s right!”

“W-what?” Chloe croaks, burying herself further into the remains of the cushion. For a moment there, she forgot the _actual_ size and appearance of the creature. It was a monstrous thing, foaming at the mouth, fur black and unkempt, wolfish nose ready to pick up the scent of preys, of… souls. _The keeper of the Underworld’s gates._

Mythology always depicts it as a guard dog, a custodian, a deterrent against possible escapes. It never mentioned _murder_. Although to be fair, Chloe can’t find much sympathy in herself when it comes to demons (save for Maze), especially after the Mayan. Still, she shivers.

“Maze and I caused a bit of a ruckus when I took the throne" Lucifer explains, clearly trying to downplay the whole affair to calm Chloe's nerves and looking down at Cerberus with a fondness she still has to get used to. “And this one was quite the resource. For some reason, he just wouldn’t leave my side.”

“You mean _my_ side" Maze deadpans.

“Whatever floats your very delusional boat, Mazikeen.”

Trixie, clearly her mother’s daughter, decides it’s best to interrupt their banter before Maze takes out her knives or finds the one she apparently came for. “You still have a problem, though. Doesn’t he have to go pee? How will you take him out in the meantime?”

“Ugh, dearie me, at least I didn’t have to take care of that in Hell" Lucifer complains. “If he pees on my Italian marble, he’s out of here.”

Chloe looks at the dog for a moment and retraces her thoughts. _She could pretend Lucifer just adopted three identical puppies_.

“I think I have an idea" she announces.

A few hours later, she thinks about the fact that no animated movie will ever compare to the shenanigans that are now a tangible part of her life. But she wouldn’t want it any other way.

The tricky part was dancing around the reason why Lucifer has so many collars and leashes, her attempt not to traumatize Trixie beyond saving. Once they managed to fit three of the smaller models around the puppy's necks, it was fairly easy to hide it in a black bag so that only the heads were sticking out of the zipper.

They find a small gated dog park that is already closed. Lucifer works his magic on the lock and lets them all in. Once they let Cerberus out of the bag, Trixie leads the mission, the three chains clutched in her hand as she walks the dog from one tree to the next until the deed is done. The creature's eyes glow in the darkness, reminding Chloe of Lucifer’s transformation when it started to seem like he was losing control of his body, of himself.

But there is beauty in what it is, the same that vibrates in Lucifer and Mazikeen’s every move, the essence at the core of their nature.

When they drive home, Chloe reaches out and pets Cerberus for the very first time.

  
  
_3\. Find the pup a loving home_

After some time (and while keeping both her hands attached to her wrists), Maze does come up with a command Cerberus responds to, the two extra heads disappearing from this plane of existence the same way Lucifer’s wings get tucked away inside his body, defying the laws of physics and reality. Even the dog's red eyes switch to brown like Lucifer’s, effectively fooling everyone into believing they are looking at nothing more than a cute little puppy that definitely didn’t guard the souls of the damned.

Problem is, Cerberus not only looks like a puppy, but also acts like one, especially now that he has assumed this form permanently. This means nothing sticks for long, and when something attracts his attention, the two hidden heads pop out to show their excitement or – most of the time – try to partake in chasing whatever the creature is trying to devour, from squirrels to birds to… other dogs. A slight inconvenience, that one.

But Chloe isn’t the only human who is aware that the supernatural exists. There are other people they can rely to. And truth be told, Maze has grown so fond of Cerberus while training him that at this point, Lucifer wouldn’t send his hellhound back even if he wanted to.

Linda’s backyard is wide, long and full of greenery. It also has walls high enough to conceal what goes on inside it from prying eyes, which is a good thing, because the sight of a baby angel flying around (or attempting to) to chase a three-headed puppy would give anyone a stroke.

“Now _that_ is something I never thought I'd see" Amenadiel comments with a smile full of fondness, sitting across the wooden table from Chloe under Linda’s porch.

“Tell me about it" Chloe jokes, chuckling. Charlie’s stream of “Puppy! Puppy! Puppy!” fills the air as the angel's son tries his best to catch the hellhound, his small fluffy wings failing to support his weight. The boy manages to leave the ground for a few seconds before flopping back down on the grass, always missing the playfully elusive dog.

“I admit, I wasn’t sure it was a good idea to keep it, but I'm glad we did" Amenadiel continues. “It’s nice for Charlie to be reminded he isn’t the only one who's... different. I would never want him to be ashamed.”

“We'll make sure he won’t be" Chloe reassures him, reaching out to squeeze his hand on the table.

“Tsk, _ashamed_. Why should he be? Do I need to remind you angelic stamina is a thing, brother?” Lucifer adds, ruining the mood of their meaningful conversation.

“Luci, come on" Amenadiel answers, scrunching up his face in discomfort. As all parents, the idea of his child having sex repulses him. Angels or not, some things stay the same at least.

“How did Linda take it?” Chloe asks, curious. The therapist is out for a session so there’s only them.

“She’s, well… getting used to the idea" Amenadiel shrugs. “As you know, she’s pretty good at adapting to this sort of stuff.”

“That she is" Chloe confirms, smiling at both brothers. Lucifer smiles back in agreement, his gratitude for the doctor’s presence in his life evident on his face.

“Puppy, nooo!” Charlie’s voice calls, forcing all their heads to turn in his direction. “Daddy mad!”

Cerberus closes his three mouths and whines in disappointment. The bush he just set fire to crackles softly under everyone’s shocked gazes.

“What the-" Amenadiel exclaims as he jumps out of his chair to run into the kitchen. He comes back with a bucket full of water and runs down the stairs to go extinguish the small fire. Charlie looks on with his hands pressed to his mouth, worried about his new puppy being in trouble, but Chloe isn’t sure the dog is the one who should be blamed.

“Oh dear, forgot about that one, didn’t I?” Lucifer chuckles, his voice low but loud enough for her to hear it.

Boy, Linda is in for a _big_ surprise when she comes back. And good luck adapting to this one.


	7. How to... keep a low profile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s hard to be on stake-outs when your partner likes to make stuff float in the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #19 of Fluffuary 2020: surprise gift. For NotOneLine who longs for more levitation powers in S5, and ZeeLinn and her love for stars. With suggestions by HiroMyStory and MoanDiary.

There must be a reason why most of the people who get murdered in LA are (well, _were_) proud owners of fancy metal balls uselessly lying around in baskets or bowls on the furniture. So far, and despite her Detective skills, Chloe hasn’t found it.

The thing with Lucifer, though, is that he doesn’t need a reason for things to be in a certain way or place as long as they serve the purpose he assigns to them, or as long as they fulfill a desire he holds dear. Which in this case is, quite simply, juggling stuff.

“Lucifer, that could be… evidence…” Ella tries to warn him, but it’s too late: the spheres are in the air, bouncing from one of the Devil's palms to the other in the middle of their recent victim’s living room.

“Aaand the money shot!” Lucifer proclaims like a circus announcer, before throwing one of the balls higher in the air and bending forward so that it will land on his lower back. Chloe has seen it before, so the trick has gotten a bit old, but his ridiculous enthusiasm always puts a smile on her face (which gets in her way when she tries to reprimand him afterwards, because at this point she’s barely fooling anyone, let alone him).

But oddly enough, something goes wrong this time: the ball lands on Lucifer’s back, but too close to his hip. Chloe sees it roll off his body and continue its descent toward the floor, a descent that is cut short when the ball quite simply… stops.

She watches it hover in the air next to Lucifer’s knee, then slowly float upwards to trace a gentle curve that ends in Lucifer’s open palm. Luckily, the rest of the police agents and forensics on the scene seem too busy to pay them any attention, while Chloe and Ella can’t help but gape in shock and wonder.

“Hoooly moly! Dude, that is _awesome_!”

“What… How… Why didn’t you tell me you could do that?!” Chloe asks in a whisper. “Or, you know, show me? Back when you wanted to prove your identity to me?”

Lucifer, clearly proud of the reactions he elicited, keeps bouncing the ball on his palm only to make it stop one second too long in the air before having it fall back in his hand. Then he looks at her with a knowing grin and answers, “Detective, your head was so deep under the sands of denial that I'm sure you would have brushed it off as a parlor trick.”

Well, fair enough.

“It kinda makes you look like a magician" Ella comments with a shrug, earning herself a scowl from the Devil.

“Not a homeless one, at least" Chloe offers as comfort, smiling encouragingly at him.

“True" Lucifer agrees with a chuckle. Chloe assumes he'll put the spheres back where they belong, but instead, her partner suddenly throws all three of them in the air and makes them float around in a circle, directing their motion with his index finger. She looks around and notices that a couple of agents are walking back into the room from the kitchen.

“Okay, time to wrap up the show!” she panics with a manic little laugh, snatching the objects from mid-air to shove them at Lucifer’s chest until he gets the hint and clutches them with his own hands. “Enough with your balls for the day!”

“…is a sentence I never thought I'd hear" Lucifer smirks, before finally placing them back in their decorative bowl.

“L-O-L!” Ella spells out, “Nice one, man.”

The Latina closes her hand into a fist and directs it at Lucifer. Despite his usual reluctance at the lab scientist’s enthusiasm, he meets her halfway with his own fist and then opens his hand when she does.

“Children,” Chloe tells herself as she walks away, “I am literally working with children.”

In the next few days, the sentiment only grows stronger, because now that Lucifer has made her aware of this skill of his, he seems unable to stop showing off. Honestly, it shouldn’t be _that_ surprising, and in the beginning it’s actually funny: Trixie’s laughter is an absolute delight when Lucifer makes her cutlery dance over the table at dinner one night, in time to the girl singing _Be My Guest_ from _Beauty and the Beast_, so much that Chloe has to stifle the urge to photograph or film the moment to rewatch it over and over.

If only Lucifer knew when to stop.

“Detective! Detective, look! _Detective!_”

“Lucifer, for the hundredth time, we're on a stake-out.”

They are, but probably not for long. After all, nothing says “run away" more than a bunch of coins twirling in a spiral in the air like some sort of mini-tornado of change. She’s pretty sure Lucifer never used to carry any before, relying entirely on 100$ bills to survive. He literally started carrying coins around _on purpose_.

“I know that, but-"

Chloe tears her gaze away from the house standing across the street from the bar they’re sitting at. She starts picking one coin at a time, punctuating her motions with her words. “Stop. Making. Stuff. Float. During. Work. Hours.”

“But it’s _fun_” Lucifer pouts.

Yup, she’s not just working with children: she’s _dating_ one.

The oldest man-child in history, no less.

  
  
_ What to do: _

_1\. Confiscate the goods_

“Detective, I'll admit, this is _such_ a fantasy of mine" Lucifer has the audacity to inform her as Chloe pats him down to look for his wallet and take it out of his jacket. Before that, of course, she finds herself staring at a small bag of pills, another one of white powder, and a third one of marijuana.

“Those are not for me" Lucifer tries to say with a panicked expression, but his glee betrays him as he erupts in a chuckle and adds, “Oh, I’ve _always_ wanted to say that! Quick, now handcuff me and tell me my rights!”

“You have the right to shut up" Chloe mumbles as she stuffs the bags back in his pockets, quickly looking around to make sure no one at the station noticed. Then she keeps searching, Lucifer’s arms outstretched to leave her space. When she glances up, she catches him glaring down at her.

“Hey, that’s not how it goes. You’re ruining the roleplaying.”

Chloe rolls her eyes and focuses back on her task. “Ha, found it!” she exclaims once the wallet is in her hand. She unbuttons the small pouch containing the change Lucifer uses for his levitation number and turns the wallet upside down to collect the coins in her palm. A gasp makes her look up.

“Detective, are you _robbing_ me? Or is this a bribe? I mean, we both know there are much more entertaining ways for me to pay you, if you catch my drift.”

“I am not stealing from you,” Chloe specifies, “I am _confiscating_ stuff from you.”

“Since when is it illegal to carry money around?” Lucifer objects, crossing his arms over his chest now that his cooperation is no longer needed. Chloe stuffs the coins in her pocket and hopes she won’t feel them literally levitate out of her jeans, or worse, tear a hole through the fabric.

“I'm the Detective, you’re the consultant, remember? I know what’s allowed and what isn’t” she jokes, allowing herself to be playful. Lucifer’s face splits into a wolfish grin, his eyes twinkling.

“Oh, bossy! I think I'm starting to like this game again!”

Before the conversation can turn any dirtier, Ella arrives to save the day. “I have the report from the scene, wanna join me in the lab to go through it?”

“Sure” Chloe replies, following her right away. After a few steps, she realizes Lucifer is still where she left him, so she looks back and asks, “You coming, Lucifer?”

His eyes directed somewhere else, her partner quickly turns toward her and smiles too brightly for her liking. “You go ahead, Detective, I’ll be with you shortly!” he tells her before walking in the opposite direction.

When he does join them in the lab cubicle, he has a 50 cent coin spinning in the air over his open palm and a proud, positively punchable smirk on his face.

“Where did you get that?!” Chloe asks him, aware that his full supply is still on her person. Did _he_ steal from someone else, by any chance?

“The vending machine" Lucifer replies as he leans against the counter near the thankfully closed door, the coin’s spinning guided by a minuscule and almost absentminded flick of his thumb. “Considering all the extra money I left inside that wretched thing, I figured it owed me and decided it was time to pay up.”

Chloe considers his statement for a moment, amused. In the confines of Ella’s lab, there is no reason to stop Lucifer from enjoying what seems to be a nice distraction, almost like squeezing a stress ball. “So, you basically granted the vending machine a favor and now you collected on your I.O.U.” she reasons.

Lucifer beams. “Yes, exactly!”

“Dude, if you can pop the lock just like that, why have I been paying for my snacks this whole time?” Ella intervenes as she sets her folder on the central table, frowning.

“You want the Devil to do your bidding, Miss Lopez? All you need to do is ask" Lucifer smirks, finally snatching the coin from mid-air to stuff it in the pocket of his pants. He walks toward the lab scientist and leans forward from across the table, eyebrows raised questioningly.

Ella leans back slowly, bracing herself with her hands as her body moves away in alarm. “Yeah, forget I said anything" she mumbles, her eyes wide.

  
  
_2\. Allow yourself to be curious_

“So… can you make _anything_ levitate?” Chloe asks Lucifer a few days later, while the three of them are once again inside Ella’s lab for a new case that just dropped – it’s the safest place to discuss something like this when they are at the precinct, away from Dan and other unknowning humans. She has the feeling that if she shows interest in Lucifer’s ability, he might stop flaunting it so blatantly in very risky circumstances. Plus, it’s not like she _isn't_ curious.

“Just metals" Lucifer answers her while Ella downloads the pictures she took at the crime scene into her computer at the other end of the cubicle from where they’re standing. “Mostly, I like spinning cents ‘cause they remind me of my Pentecostal coin. A ticket out of Hell back when I didn’t have my wings. I gave it to Malcolm when he and his porn stache ambushed me in my penthouse to shoot me.”

Chloe remembers them going through everything that happened since the beginning of their partnership, up to the point when she found out the truth, with Lucifer filling gaps and answering questions openly once he had the certainty Chloe would believe his supernatural explanations. She remembers him telling her he offered Malcolm “a deal he could not refuse”.

She doesn’t like to think about him, mostly because of what he did to Trixie, and besides, it’s beyond the point.

“But… why metals, specifically?” she presses. Ella is pretending to be busy, but Chloe knows her colleague is listening attentively too. Hearing tales about the Devil from the guy himself is not something anyone can have the privilege to enjoy, and Ella is always particularly enthusiastic about it.

Surprisingly, Lucifer squirms at the question. Chloe thought he would appreciate her interest, revel in it, even; yet suddenly he looks as if she put him on the spot.

“Because metals come from stars” he says eventually, slowly and with unexpected seriousness. “_My_ stars" he concludes after a pregnant pause, and that’s when Chloe’s mind short-circuits.

Of course, she read about it. But it was so hard to separate truth from legend, to differentiate between what was real and what were just assumptions, myths, stories. And when she did her research, she was looking for information about the _Devil_, not who he was before. The Morning Star. The Lightbringer.

Lucifer, her boyfriend, her lover, made the _stars_.

The silence between them must be getting awkward, because Ella starts fidgeting visibly, clearly struggling to find something to say. Despite her obvious fascination at the recent discovery, what comes out of her mouth is of course a very fast and stuttering stream of facts.

“That's- that’s actually true! The very first stars were metal-free, only made of hydrogen and helium. But as they grew hotter, their atoms started to fuse and create one element after the other, all the way up to developing an iron core. And then _bam!_ Supernova explosion! That’s actually how gold came into existence, can you believe it? We literally wear stardust around our necks! So cool. Isn’t it cool? I think it’s _very_ cool.”

Lucifer’s uneasiness radiates from his body in waves, almost thick and palpable enough to be cut with a knife. His moods are always so strong, so evident, that the entire atmosphere in the room is influenced by them.

“Y-yeah, totally" Chloe agrees just to say something, looking at him with worry out of the corner of her eye, taking in his stiff and wary posture. Ella is doing the same, her gaze shifting between Detective and consultant.

“So metals, uh?” is what she comes up with. “You’re basically Magneto!”

Lucifer blinks as if waking up from a dazed state. “Minus the ridiculous helmet, thank you very much", he quips, straightening his already perfect suit jacket in a gesture Chloe knows to associate with insecurity. Something is amiss, but she can’t tell what exactly. Was she out of line in asking? Should she have just enjoyed Lucifer’s tricks without digging any deeper under the surface?

“But how does it work?” Ella decides to inquire when it’s clear Chloe has no intention of continuing her interrogation, before lifting a hand to stop Lucifer just as he’s about to open his mouth. “No, wait, don’t answer. Electrostatic levitation! You create an electric field and charge the metals with current to counteract the effect of gravity. Right? Right?”

“I, uh, yes! Yes, _that_! That is _exactly_ how it works, Miss Lopez. Kudos to you!”

“You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?” Ella asks him with an arched eyebrow.

“Nope. Not a bloody clue.”

Chloe snorts. Just like that, the mood turns light and relaxed before shifting back to the investigation at hand. But in the back of her mind, she wonders where she went wrong, and thinks of the night sky.

  
  
_3\. Borrow a page out of his book_

Their ride back to the penthouse, where they planned to have dinner after work, is unusually silent. Chloe keeps looking at Lucifer as she drives, but her boyfriend is intently staring out the window, upwards, it seems. She takes a nervous breath.

“Lucifer, wanna make a deal with me?”

He stirs immediately, curious and fascinated by the request. “Detective, I thought you’d never ask" he sighs almost dreamily.

“I'll let you spin coins in the air on stake-outs – and I mean _in the car_, not in public – without making a fuss. In exchange… you tell me why I upset you today.”

Lucifer stiffens, dejected. He clearly thought the conversation would be much lighter than this. He flops back against the seat in defeat and clenches his jaw.

“Who says you upset me?” he tries, unconvincingly.

“I do, because I know you. The moment you mentioned the stars, something… changed. I'm sorry if I asked something I shouldn’t have.”

She can basically _hear_ him smile, with that short little sound he makes at the back of his throat when something surprises him in a good way. “It’s not your fault" he tells her. “I just hadn’t thought about them in a while. I have a… controversial relationship with them, in a way.”

Chloe wants to ask why, but there is something else she wants to ask even more. She needs the moment to be right, for this sort of confession. Her longing for intimacy with Lucifer compels her to insist gradually, never too suddenly, otherwise he ends up closing off again. It’s a difficult dance around the walls he puts up, a game of planning and strategy to find a breach and walk past them, closer and closer to his heart. No place on Earth is more guarded, yet once you reach it, no place is warmer, safer.

“You can say no, but… would you like to go star-gazing with me?”

Lucifer swallows. In moments like these, she’s not sure whether his inability to deny her what she wants is a blessing or a curse. “Of course, love,” he replies, “whatever you desire.”

After dinner, they take the Corvette and set out for the desert. The wind messes with Lucifer’s hair as he drives, silent but not uncomfortably so. Chloe catches him looking at her at random moments, with that kind of softness and reverence that makes her legs go weak. The ride is thick with anticipation, with the promise of a secret about to be shared, and she can’t wait.

Lucifer abandons the main road and drives along an unpaved path for a while, among low bushes and tall cacti. He stops in a clearing with a perfect, unobstructed view of the sky: pollution is still a problem, but there are no clouds in sight, and they can see way more starts than in the city. He gets out of the car, closes the door behind him and walks around the vehicle to sit against the hood. From her side, Chloe does the same.

She waits for him to speak, observing him expectantly but patiently as he lights himself a cigarette and takes a drag. Lucifer looks up at the sky. Chloe wonders if he’s thinking about the stars, about his Father, or about both.

When the silence stretches on, she gathers up the courage to say something. “As awkward as I feel saying it, I suppose I should thank you for making them.”

Lucifer turns toward her and smiles. Under the light of the moon and the stars he created, he's so beautiful that it almost hurts to look at him.

“Well, that’s a first” he comments with a hint of bitterness. “People usually thank my Father. After all, I made them at His request.”

Chloe watches him for a few instants, hesitant. It’s hard to breach the subject, to consider God not just as a superior, abstract entity, but as the head of a dysfunctional family, a father who apparently wasn’t that good at His job.

“Is that why you have mixed feelings about them?” she prods gently, her voice low. Lucifer takes a long drag, using the time to gather his thoughts. The red glimmer of the end of the cigarette is bright in the darkness, like a small campfire warming them both.

“I suppose. The thing is… I used to be proud of them. I still am. But at the same time, they will never truly be… mine. Not entirely, at least. Do you know what I mean?”

Chloe nods. Of course, what they’re discussing is crazy to think about if she stops to process it, but the idea behind it is relatable enough.

“I think I do,” she answers as she stares at the dark expanse of the sky, “but I don’t think you should let your issues with Him taint something that gave you satisfaction. There’s nothing wrong in being proud of something you did, even if you did it for someone who later disappointed you. It doesn’t make the act any less important or meaningful.”

When she looks back down at him, she finds Lucifer staring at her affectionately, as if what she just said endeared him deeply. She can’t help but reach out to cup the side of his face, brushing her thumb over his cheekbone and feeling his smile stretch under her palm.

“Come here" Lucifer whispers, throwing the cigarette on the ground to snuff it with the sole of his shoe. Chloe obliges, shifting closer to him to be welcomed in his embrace. She settles between his slightly open legs as Lucifer winds one arm around her middle and lifts the other to brush a lock of hair away from her face.

“Oh, my darling Detective,” he sighs, “I would make entire constellations in your name, but they would never compare to the light in your eyes.”

It’s cheesy, so cheesy, yet he says it in a way that makes it impossible to laugh at him. So Chloe kisses him. With his face in both of her hands, she feels him melt under the touch of her lips with a sharp, startled intake of breath, always overwhelmed by her kisses as if she’s granting him an unexpected mercy. They kiss intensely yet sweetly, slowly pressing closer, a languid dance that ends with them panting against each other’s lips.

When Lucifer pulls back slightly, his gaze suddenly focuses on the bullet necklace around Chloe’s neck, a thought clearly taking shape in his head.

“I'll tell you what,” he whispers, his voice rougher, deeper, “maybe a constellation is too much. But I will gladly make a brand new star, just for you.”

Once again, Chloe’s brain struggles to process what she just heard. Some people buy their significant other those star ownership certificates she always found a bit too much, but this is next level. Because, well, her significant other _is_ next level. Literally of another species.

“Are you serious?” she asks him incredulously.

Lucifer nods, then lifts his arm from around her waist to bring it between them. With a snap of his fingers, Chloe feels a click at the nape of her neck, as the chain suddenly floats away from her skin to hover in the air in front of her. It slips away from the hoop and falls to the ground, while the crooked bullet lands in Lucifer’s palm.

“Let the whole universe know I finally managed to properly penetrate you" he jokes, and it’s almost a relief, because Chloe was starting to wonder when his usual dumbassery would come back. She slaps his shoulder and laughs, and Lucifer laughs along with her.

“I'll miss it, though" she confesses then, pressing a hand over her neck and collarbones to find the skin there suddenly too bare and empty. She started wearing the piece of jewelry again when Lucifer left for Hell, and ever since he returned, it’s been a reminder that hope does pay off, and that he’s back in her life to stay.

“If it makes you feel any better, you can always shoot me again and I'll have another one made" Lucifer shrugs (Chloe isn’t entirely sure he’s joking). “Make sure it’s the other leg though, just to make it even. Now, if you'll excuse me…”

He motions for Chloe to step aside. When she does, he spreads his angel wings behind him, bright and luminescent in the night, so huge she can barely see beyond his frame. Then he's gone with a flap, sending air and sand Chloe’s way and leaving her suddenly alone in the middle of nowhere, startled.

As inexperienced with the laws of angel flight as she is, Chloe expects the journey to last quite a while, and wonders what exactly she’s supposed to be doing in the meantime. Instead, Lucifer is back in less than a minute, reappearing in the exact spot he previously vacated. He adjusts his cufflinks and straightens the lines of his sleeves, acting nonchalant, then folds his wings away.

Chloe stares at him, then up at the sky, then back down at him. “So? Where is it?”

A realization seems to strike him. He fidgets. Slowly, he replies, “Uhm, actually it will… take a few years for you to… see it…”

Oh. Right. Light-years and all that.

“Well, this is _very_ anticlimactic.”

They both look at each other and burst out laughing at the same time. Chloe’s eyes fill with tears of mirth at the ridiculousness of it, but she’s not disappointed. The moment feels so _them_ that she can’t help but revel in how imperfect it is.

When the laughter dies down, she steps closer to Lucifer and wraps her arms around his neck. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll take me back here and show it to me” she tells him, not missing the way his breath catches in his throat at how easy it is for her to picture them still together years down the line. The invisible, far away star is now a promise. An oath of devotion. A pledge of loyalty.

“I love it" she continues. “I love _you_. Thank you.”

“No, thank _you_, Chloe" replies the Lightbringer, hugging her closer to his chest. “Thank you for giving me a reason to be proud of them again.”  
  
When this whole levitation business started, the last thing Chloe expected to happen was for Lucifer to gift her a _star_ with a bullet from her gun as its core. She’s reminded almost every day that she’s dating the Devil, but maybe she ended up forgetting she's also dating an angel, a being who witnessed Creation itself – who _shaped_ part of it, even.

Yet the reminder doesn’t make her feel small. No, Chloe feels on top of the world. Invincible. Special. Loved.

And so she stays like this, waiting for the twinkle of a star she still can’t see, comforted by the knowledge that she has a much brighter one clutched securely in her arms.


	8. How to... get along with his "family"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s hard to be amicable when your boyfriend’s twin brother is a dickish archangel on time-out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #30 of Fluffuary 2020: found family. Inspired by my personal crusade for S5: Let Chloe Punch A Celestial 2020, or in short, LCPAC2020. Join us, we have membership cards!

It’s not unusual for Lucifer to excuse himself from helping out with paperwork (which is of course an overstatement) whenever one of his “petitioners" comes to seek him out at the precinct for a favor. It’s common knowledge at this point that the owner of Lux spends most of his time in service of the LAPD, but the supposed power of the institution doesn’t seem to be enough to dissuade these people from venturing all the way inside a police station to have their audience with the devilish nightclub owner.

So when a few minutes ago Lucifer stood up from his chair, mumbled that he'd be right back and left Chloe at her desk, she just nodded in agreement without lifting her gaze from the report under her nose, certain that it was one of those occurrences.

Now, she’s not so sure.

A loud noise and a scream coming from inside the interrogation room just startled everyone in the bullpen. A few officers instinctively touch the weapons in their holsters and start walking toward the room, but Chloe recognized the voice, and she can’t risk anyone else dealing with Lucifer if he’s… not in full control of himself, for lack of a better expression.

“I got it" she reassures her colleagues as she hastily leaves her desk, palms up in a soothing gesture. The officers don’t look convinced, but the resolve in her eyes must be evident, because they take a step back and nod silently, worried and on edge.

She doesn’t know what to expect as she quickly slips into the room, but once she does, she can safely say it wasn’t this.

The metal table that usually sits in the middle of the space has been thrown to one side and lies upturned on the floor, which probably caused the noise everyone heard. Same goes for the chairs, broken or weirdly bent in different corners. And right in the center of the room, there are two Lucifers. Well, there is Lucifer, and someone who looks like him but isn’t him.

Chloe needs to think on her feet, she realizes through her initial shock. Because the two angels in front of her are locked together in a fighting stance, _wings out_, in broad daylight and in the middle of a damned police station full of blissfully ignorant humans. If they were mortals as well, the equivalent of it would be two people pressing knives against each other’s throats. But these are the very first children of God, each one with a huge feathery wing bent toward the other, the now razor-sharp point threatening to flick to the side and slice through flesh.

Not-Lucifer has shorter hair, no stubble, and wears a long, sleeveless grey robe with black leather cuffs at his wrists. His wings are identical to Lucifer’s in wingspan and texture, but black in color, the inner light of divinity making them look almost slick, like the feathers of a bird dropped in a pool of oil-contaminated water. Neither of the two has realized they have company, two busy shooting murderous glares at the other. Chloe doesn’t need to look into Lucifer’s eyes to know they are blazing red.

“Put your wings away, both of you!” she urges in a heated whisper – and what a sentence it is to say, but the absurdity of it doesn’t even register in her mind, too focused on how to defuse the situation. Lucifer’s head whips in her direction, his chest heaving with harsh, angry breaths.

“Detective, get out of here" he tells her, voice deep and low as he tries to keep himself from snapping. “It’s not safe.”

Not-Lucifer snickers, startling her. “Aw, Sammy, so it _is_ true! You really got yourself a human girlfriend? How adorable!”

Chloe doesn’t even have the time to think of something to say. Lucifer growls, spreads both of his wings and pushes the other angel against the wall behind him with so much sudden force that his opponent’s black wings end up awkwardly pinned and cramped behind his back. Lucifer wraps one hand around his throat and slams his head against the wall so hard that its surface cracks under the blow.

“If you so much as look at her in a way I don’t like, I'll incinerate you where you stand" he roars, hellfire in his eyes and in his voice – not _his_ voice, not really; not the musical, seductive dance of sounds she’s used to, but the monotonous, thunderous, ground-shaking bellow of the King of Hell.

And yet, the other angel laughs in his face, unfazed by Lucifer’s iron grip around his neck. “I'm not one of your little demons, brother, you'd better remember that” he croaks, with an American accent that is quite simply jarring given the physical similarity with Lucifer (Chloe won’t ever say it to him, but his British one is at least a quarter of the charm).

“Lucifer, you need to calm down" Chloe whispers, taking a step forward. Lucifer’s red eyes try to pin her to the spot, but it’s a trick that simply doesn’t work with her anymore. “Anyone could come in here, it’s too dangerous. Please, just… just step away. Please, for me.”

Lucifer’s wings are so puffed up that she can barely see the room beyond him and his… brother (twin brother, clearly). He looks taller than usual, broader than usual, an otherworldly presence that is simply too big to be contained by these inadequate walls. Yet for her, he makes himself small again – an almost heartbreaking thing to see, but sadly necessary. He lets out a frustrated breath, steps back from his enemy, and folds his wings away and out of sight as his eyes turn back to brown.

Chloe stares at his brother with a pointed look, ready to take out her gun if he tries anything funny, although she's pretty sure there would be no point. “Well?”

The black-winged angel looks impressed by her tone. He shrugs, brushes dust away from one of his shoulders and finally hides his wings.

“You’re a fierce one, I'll give you that” he compliments her, but with the same tone one would use to comment on how pretty a dog is. “What’s your name?”

“Chloe" she replies, crossing her arms over her chest and raising her chin in defiance. “Now forgive my French, but who the fuck are _you_?”

As the angel opens his mouth to reply, the door bursts open. Chloe turns around to find Amenadiel and Ella gaping at the scene in front of them.

“I, uh… I thought Lucifer might be in trouble, so I texted him" Ella gestures to Amenadiel and lifts her phone to show the screen for emphasis, for some reason. Her gaze slowly shifts to settle on the unknown occupant of the room, eyes comically wide.

“Michael? What are you doing here?” Amenadiel says, walking past Ella to stand next to Chloe. She can feel the atmosphere change immediately at the name.

“Michael?” she repeats. “Michael, as in…”

As in _Then war broke out in Heaven: Michael and his angels fought against the dragon, and the dragon and his angels fought back; but he was not strong enough, and they lost their place in Heaven_.

Yes, _that_ Michael. Chloe hates that she knows all this, hates the reason why, hates the research that went behind it once upon a time. But more than anything, she hates the look she finds on Lucifer’s face once their eyes meet. Because under all the rage and the fury of the Devil… he is scared.

He doesn’t talk of his Fall, not to her; ironically enough, he used to mention it more back when she didn’t believe him, when she thought it was just a metaphor to deal with being kicked out of the house in his teenage years or something like that. But now, there is one thing she knows for certain without needing confirmation: Michael is not a friend. He’s a threat, and she’ll treat him as such.

She is Chloe Jane Decker, detective of the LAPD and _former_ nobody, and she is ready to deal with any kind of celestial bullshit coming her way even if Lucifer isn’t. _Especially_ if he isn’t.

Lucifer’s twin regards her with sudden pride, puffing up his chest. “Michael, as in _St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the Devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray, and do thou, O Prince of the heavenly hosts, by the power of God, thrust into hell Satan, and all the evil spirits who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls_.”

Lucifer bristles, clenching his fists at his sides. Chloe feels the distinct urge to wrap him up in a blanket and whisk him away from here, to the safety and comfort of her home.

“Get him back where he belongs,” Lucifer turns to tell Amenadiel, pointedly ignoring the prayer, “or Dad help me, _I_ will.”

Then he storms off, pushing past his dark-skinned brother, ignoring his attempt at stopping him. Chloe turns on her heels to run after him, only to find herself face to face with Dan.

“What is going on here? I saw Lucifer leaving, he looked- _What the hell?!_”

  
  
_ What to do: _

_1\. Keep your enemies close_

“I don’t like this" Maze mutters around a mouthful of cereals, customary bottle of vodka next to her bowl on the counter.

“I believe you’ve mentioned it a couple of times already” Chloe reminds her as she places a plate of scrambled eggs in front of Trixie, her daughter sitting on the stool next to the demon’s. “But like I said, I didn’t have a lot of options and I want to keep an eye on him until he leaves.”

“Lock him up in a shed in the desert and install security cameras" Maze suggests, again, with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Or send him to a hotel room and I'll gladly keep him company there. But make it a suite. With pay-per-view. As in, _you_ pay and _I_ view.”

Chloe decides she won’t grace the first proposition with an answer. For one, she doesn’t have the means to keep an _archangel_ locked somewhere, and secondly, it won’t do them any good to further antagonize Michael since he’s stuck here. On Earth. For a week. Or so he said.

“He doesn’t have any ID to be booked into a hotel, Mazikeen" she replies to the second suggestion. “I am not going to ask Lucifer to lend him his own, and if we go to your… fixer guy to get him a fake one, he might be more inclined to come back in the future, which is something I am trying to avoid. And before you say anything else, Amenadiel doesn’t want him anywhere near Charlie after another celestial, from what I have been told, threatened to perform an emergency C-section on Linda. Okay?”

Mazikeen is silent for a long moment; well, except for her loud, over-the-top crunching noises. “I hate when you make sense" she whispers in the end, pouring more vodka into her bowl with a somber expression.

“Yeah, me too.”

Chloe is just about to sit with Maze and Trixie to enjoy her own breakfast when Michael appears from the stairs, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt Chloe borrowed from Dan. The image of Lucifer walking down those same stairs in the morning, sleepy-headed and groggy, makes the moment all the more unpleasant.

“Good morning" the angel greets them jovially, walking around them to head for the fridge. He caught up quickly enough with the whole this-is-how-we-humans-do-things rundown, and has learnt he likes milk straight from the carton, despite knowing where the glasses are. The asshole.

The three of them stay silent as he takes long, noisy gulps. Mazikeen’s eyes are reduced to thin slits, her fingernails nervously tapping on the counter. Completely oblivious to the atmosphere he created, Michael takes a stool and sits right next to the demon, carton in hand.

Chloe decides the best thing to do is fill the silence, somehow. “Monkey, did you get your backpack-"

“I don’t like you" Trixie cuts her off, pointing her fork in Michael’s direction. Chloe holds her breath, but secretly, she feels an overwhelming sense of pride. She remembers, so clearly, the moment Trixie met Lucifer for the first time.

_Isn’t he funny, daddy?_

_I think she likes you._

_Of course she does. What’s not to like?_

“The feeling is mutual, small… dwarf… human" Michael replies, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I'm not a dwarf, I still have to grow, you _ass_!”

“Trixie!” Chloe gasps, trying to stifle a laugh, “We don’t talk like that in this house!”

“Yes, we do" Mazikeen pipes up, lifting a hand to meet one of Trixie’s in an enthusiastic high five.

Michael rolls his eyes, then lights up like a freaking Christmas tree. “So, what’s in store for the day? Sword practice? Holy Mass? Church sightseeing?”

“Excuse me while I go vomit" Maze says around a tight smile, pushing the half-full bowl of cereal away. “Let me know when you’re ready to go out, Decker.”

And then she leaves, boots heavily stomping on the stairs as she walks back to her room to get her knives or… whatever is missing from her outfit. She’ll be Chloe’s bodyguard for the day, and all the other days until the end of this nightmare of a week. Lucifer made it very clear that it was either this, or him dragging Michael down to Hell by the hair, given that his twin is temporarily exiled from Heaven over some mysterious disagreement, which means there is nothing Amenadiel can do.

And even though Lucifer visits his kingdom regularly, the last thing Chloe wants is for him to be in potential danger down there, surrounded by so many painful memories and in the company of the very person who might trigger them.

Mostly, she’s trying to keep Michael as far away from Lucifer as possible. Lucifer will be at home for the week, and Chloe will take Michael with her on cases, hoping to fool her colleagues into believing he's her usual consultant. Some of them clearly noticed Michael entering the precinct on the first day way after Lucifer’s arrival, but as a general rule, they don’t ask a lot of questions about her partner. They so clearly remind her of how she used to be.

She looks at the archangel sitting at her kitchen counter, and hopes she won’t come to regret this.

  
  
_2\. Mark your territory_

Chloe’s phone screen lights up at the end of another exhausting day of work with her unlikely supernatural duo. She smiles at the familiar name she reads there, as she climbs into her car followed by Mazikeen and Michael.

_Did he give you any trouble today?_

She fastens her seatbelt and types back, _The usual. Maze keeps him in check, don’t worry._

The next reply takes longer to arrive. She can see that Lucifer is typing something, then stopping, then typing again.

_I'm sorry about all of this._

Chloe’s heart squeezes inside her chest.

_It’s not your fault. Please, don’t blame yourself. How did it go with Linda?_  
  
This time Lucifer types without interruptions, clearly on his way to send her a longer message. He’s been seeing his therapist every day since Michael’s appearance. Chloe does her best to hide her concern when she goes to visit him at the penthouse, and asking him via text is a great solution in that regard.

_The poor Doctor is probably fed up with me, but we both know she’ll never admit it. It was a bit hard today. Almost punched a hole through the wall again, then went out and bought her a bonsai tree to apologise. Did you know the oldest one in existence is 800 years old? I thought it might remind her of me._ 🌳😈

Chloe can’t help but chuckle out loud, earning curious looks from the two people staring at her expectantly. Her Devil is such a dork sometimes.

_No, I actually didn’t know that. It was very nice of you. Do you want me to come meet you tonight?_

_I’m entertaining at Lux. Ditch the bloody crow and come see me after dinner._

She sends a 👍 emoji, stuffs her phone in her pocket and puts the key in the ignition. As she drives the car out of the precinct’s parking lot, she can feel Michael’s eyes on her from the backseat.

“So you’re taking me out tonight?” he eventually asks, leaning forward between Chloe’s and Mazikeen’s headrests. They had to buy him some cheap suit to try and imitate Lucifer’s outfits without spending an ungodly amount of money (Lucifer vowed to set his wardrobe on fire at the mere mention of lending his brother clothes), and the result can fool a stranger’s eye, but to Chloe, it’s like talking to a half-formed version of Lucifer. An American version. Did she mention that already?

“No, I'm not. _I_ am going out tonight, and _you_ are staying home with Maze and Trixie” she replies, glaring at him from the rearview mirror. The archangel Michael, of the Bible, spending the night watching TV on the couch with her daughter and her demon flatmate. You know, the usual.

“But you told Samael you are going to see him play” he complains, stubbornly refusing to call Lucifer anything other than the name God gave him – poison, not light. “I want to see what he does here on Earth, why he likes it so much. I have been walking in his shoes during the day, why not at night?”

Chloe grips the steering wheel until her knuckles turn white. Lux is Lucifer’s sanctuary. She can’t let Michael set a foot in it or she’ll never forgive herself. She already feels bad for having him around, like a poor substitute for her own boyfriend, but there was no convincing Michael to simply choose a different corner of the world to spend his exile in. He is getting a thrill out of messing with his brother’s life even for this short period of time, and Chloe hates him for it.

“Look,” she starts, as calmly as she can, “my car, my house, my rules. You didn’t get invited. I did.”

Michael sighs and slumps back against the seat. Maze decides to turn on the radio and stays silent, which is unusual. Chloe knows how protective the demon is, even if she won’t admit it. Just like her, Mazikeen can’t wait for this to be over.

After dinner, Chloe goes up to her room to change into a cute short-sleeved top and a pair of skinny jeans, letting her hair loose for the night (Lucifer loves it, and she loves that he loves it). When she comes back downstairs, Michael is standing at the door, clearly waiting for her.

“I said I'm not taking you" she snaps, trying to walk past him. Michael shifts to the side, tall and imposing as he blocks her way to the door. Suddenly, even without seeing his wings, she is reminded of who he is. A warrior of God. A dangerous, dangerous creature.

“Get out of my way, Michael” Chloe orders. Mazikeen stirs from the couch and reaches them quickly, curved knife in hand, but Chloe stops her by raising hers in her direction. She wants Michael to know she’s not afraid of him. Because despite all of that, and against all logic, she isn’t.

Michael sneers. He’s been bearable as the days went by, but for some reason, he’s not letting this go. “Listen, you might be his girlfriend for, what, another…” – he looks at her from head to toe – “..ten years, before you get too old? But I am his family, and if I decide I want to see him, I go see him. I have played your little game out of politeness for taking me in, but no human should presume to-"

“No, _you_ listen!” Chloe snaps, pressing her index finger into his chest. “Yes, I am a silly little human, and yes, I will get old and ugly and wrinkly soon enough, but let’s make something perfectly clear here. You’re not his family. We are. _I_ am. _I_ know what is best for him, and it’s not _you_.”

Michael looks taken aback by her outburst, which is definitely good. Chloe removes her finger from his chest, shoves him aside, and leaves.

  
  
_3\. Make sure to leave a lasting impression_

It’s only on the last blessed day of Michael’s stay that Chloe discovers something she wishes she had known all along. They are making dinner, and at midnight, this week of celestial babysitting will finally be over. For reasons unknown (maybe to try and be remembered in a positive way, which is unlikely), Michael decided to help out and is chopping vegetables next to Chloe.

Until he gets distracted, cuts his finger, and bleeds.

Chloe stares at the red liquid bubbling up from the cut, shocked. “What does that mean?” she asks, quietly panicking. She’s not sure she can deal with having weird supernatural effects on another immortal being. Oh God, did Michael fall in love with her?! Lucifer will kill him. Maybe she’ll let him.

Michael walks to the sink, opens the faucet and puts his injured finger under the water until the bleeding subsides. He doesn’t look surprised, which is alarming.

“Well, you didn’t expect me to give away my weakness just like that, did you? I couldn’t risk your lap dog killing me in my sleep. But since I'm leaving… yes, I have been vulnerable this whole time. Father didn’t like me insulting his precious creatures and decided to teach me a lesson, make me live like one of them for a bit.”

With his good hand, he pushes up his sleeve to show her his wrist. Chloe realizes he has been wearing his original black leather cuffs all along. Then the angel moves the cuff, revealing a bracelet hidden underneath. It’s made of dark brown rope, with a lilac stone in the middle, similar to an amethyst but glowing with a light clearly not of this world. The means to execute the punishment, she realizes, relaxing at the news.

“Serves you well" she comments. “And did you actually learn anything from this lesson?”

Michael sighs as he hides the bracelet again, visibly disappointed. “I'm not so sure. I mean, I get the appeal, for a time, but… _staying_ here? I don’t know how Samael does it.”

Chloe stares at him for a long moment, pondering her next words carefully. “As you’re well aware, his only other option isn’t all that exciting.”

To her surprise, Michael doesn’t make a face or reply with sarcasm. The sentence strikes him, hard. Storm clouds gather in his eyes, so similar to Lucifer’s, yet so different. Colder. Calculating. Distant.

“I only did what Father told me to do. I did not enjoy it, but it was my _duty_, and unlike my brother, I knew my place. I still do. I accepted my punishment willingly, and I am going to be rewarded for it.”

Chloe makes a bitter sound, looking away for a moment. “Your punishment? What, this little vacation? Give me a break.”

Michael steps into her personal space. Chloe doesn’t budge, staring up at him defiantly.

“You only see the part of him you want to see. It’s charming, I know. _He_’s charming, more than me, I'll admit. But don’t presume to know the suffering he has caused. Don’t presume to understand the magnitude of his rebellion, of what it means to challenge your own _nature_ like that. So yes, I struck him down from the sky, and bound him with chains, and pushed him to his Fall. But I won’t take any judgement from _you_, a woman who loves him even after he killed a man, after he killed his own _brother_.”

Chloe’s eyes fill with tears of anger and grief at the images Michael just summoned in her mind. Of Lucifer, her Lucifer, bleeding and terrified. She finds she can’t really focus on what Michael said before or after that, fully aware of the circumstances that led to those awful decisions. Somehow, she knows that explaining them to the person in front of her wouldn’t make any difference.

“You know, for a moment there, I thought… I thought you came here to apologize to him” she confesses, feeling naïve and dejected. Because deep down, she was hoping this turn of events might lead to a resolution of some sort, a resolution she was actually preventing by keeping the two twins apart. But she realizes, now, that Lucifer should simply learn to live without it, just in case it never comes.

“It’s Father’s prerogative to decide whether we should or not" Michael replies coldly. Chloe nods and steps back from him.

“Then there’s nothing else to say.”

They eat in silence, joined by Trixie and Maze. When it’s time, Chloe takes Michael to the roof of a building Amenadiel assured her would be empty and isolated enough to see him off. For this, Lucifer decided he wanted to be present, and she finds him already there with Amenadiel when she arrives.

“Farewell, brothers" Michael announces regally, his arms wide as he steps away from the group and spreads his wings, the dark color blending with the night sky behind him.

“Yeah, bugger off and see you never" Lucifer answers with a fake smile, wrapping one arm around Chloe’s waist as if to make a point. The point being, _You kept her away from me for long enough_.

But as much as she hates distancing herself from him, especially now, Chloe has one last thing to do.

“Michael?” she calls, stepping right in front of the angel in question.

“Yes?”

Her fist colliding with the side of his face, lip splitting under her knuckles, gives her a satisfaction that borders on unhealthy. Nevermind the fact that it kinda feels like punching old, smug, dickish Lucifer in the face, which is something she has secretly wanted to do all along.

“This is for what you did to my boyfriend" she declares, bracing for a reaction, but Michael is so surprised that all he seems able to do is wipe blood from his split lip and look at her with wide, unblinking eyes, mouth open in outrage.

“What… How…” Amenadiel stutters as he looks at them in turn, his shocked expression mirrored on Lucifer’s face.

“I'll explain you guys later" Chloe reassures them, taking her rightful place at Lucifer’s side. Then she glares at Michael, until the disbelieving angel swallows, nods minutely, and finally, finally leaves with a powerful flap of his wings. They stare up at him until he’s a black spot in the distance, bound for the gates of Heaven. Chloe distantly realizes she might see him again up there (well, hopefully). Too bad she won’t be able to punch him again without breaking her hand. Good thing she actually got the chance.

Lucifer wraps his arm around her waist once again, then sighs almost dreamily.

“Detective, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’ve never been sexier" he purrs in her ear, absolutely delighted. Chloe sees Amenadiel roll his eyes and turn to leave, muttering something under his breath.

“I know" she grins up at Lucifer, before grasping his hand to take him home. His family has missed him very, very much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might take a break from this fic because I am trying to write a longfic, but fear not! This story is always here for all those silly little ideas I can't put into a more cohesive one. It is my happy place, with virtually no end in sight 🥰
> 
> Hope you liked the chapter, and see you soon!


	9. How to... reassure your daughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s hard to calm your daughter's nerves when she feels like the Devil himself needs her protection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to Liannabob and kapkin, who gave me the idea for this chapter.

In retrospect, this time it’s probably Chloe’s fault. Well, okay, it’s _definitely_ Chloe’s fault. But the thing is, Trixie is getting older, and Chloe feels more and more inclined to speak to her openly when she asks specific questions. And of course, with her being the Devil’s girlfriend, the infamous “talk" doesn’t turn out to be the one all parents dread, not yet at least.

Oh, no. The “talk", in Trixie’s case, turns out to be about Lucifer. More specifically, about Lucifer’s Fall.

Overall, Trixie has handled the whole “my mother is in a relationship with Satan" business like a piece of cake (not a chocolate one, or she would have eaten it). Which, if anything, has only made Chloe more self-conscious about her initial freak-out. Then again, Trixie has her age on her side, granting her a lack of preconceptions and false stereotypes and a tendency to trust what people say to an almost dangerous degree. Which means Lucifer’s... being _the_ Lucifer has always been a given, for her.

She has never asked questions, though. Not until now. Not until the day she comes home from school, dropped off by a friend’s mother after spending the afternoon at their house, and announces that she has to write an essay about “a person she is grateful for having in her life", and that she has decided this person is Lucifer.

The note she still has on her bedroom door comes to mind: _No boys allowed except for Lucifer and Dad_ (yes, in this order). From her place at the stove, Chloe smiles as Trixie drops her backpack on the couch and sits on one of the stools at the counter, then sets a pen and a piece of paper on it and looks at her with a very serious expression.

“This means I will need a lot more information, mom,” her monkey declares, picking up the pen with her right hand like a journalist ready to conduct an interview, “and you will be my source.”

Chloe stirs the tomato sauce in the pan and considers her statement. “Honey, if you want to know more about him, maybe you should just ask _him_, you know.”

Can she trust Lucifer not to get into the more… controversial details of his previous lifestyle, or to sugarcoat the most violent, gruesome ones? Honestly, she feels like she can. And will Lucifer appreciate this interest in him? He likes being the center of attention, that is true, but maybe he will feel put on the spot. She makes a mental note to herself to text him about it, just to make sure.

But it appears that she won’t need to, because Trixie replies, “No, I want to surprise him with it! I don’t want him to know that I'm writing about him until it’s done!”

“Oh, okay,” Chloe says hesitantly. “Then, uhm… ask away, I guess.”

The conversation starts in a pretty safe territory: Lucifer’s favorite food, movie, color, pastime (which is sex, but music is a close second, so she’ll be forgiven). The essay has to be more about the impact the person has had on the student’s life, so this stuff is just to give a bigger picture, but it isn’t the main focus of the piece. What is clearly required, though, is to emphasize _how_ the person has come to be a part of the student’s life, and together, Trixie and Chloe go over the circumstances that led to Lucifer being in the hallway of the school when Trixie was waiting for Chloe outside of her classroom on that day.

But Trixie isn’t satisfied. Trixie wants to dig _deeper_.

“Yeah, but like… why was he in LA in general?” she asks, tapping the top of the pen against her pursed lips. “Why wasn’t he, you know… in Hell?”

Pasta is ready at this point, so Chloe goes to sit at the counter with her and places their two dishes on it. Lucifer is entertaining at Lux tonight, and Maze is out partying, probably somewhere else.

“Monkey, you know you can’t put this stuff in the essay, right?” she asks, concerned. “You’ll have to use metaphors at best, like Lucifer has always done.”

“Well, _duh_,” Trixie replies, completely uninterested in her dinner as she looks at her expectantly. “But still… I am starting to realize I don’t really know a lot about him, mom. And I want to. It’s just… I don’t feel like he would talk to me about it. He thinks I'm just a small, silly human.”

“Oh, baby, that’s not true!” Chloe cooes, although, well… kinda?

Trixie raises an eyebrow at her. “Mom, he thought I would play fetch with a doll once.”

“That’s… true, but in his defense, he’s grown a lot since then.”

“He tried to get me out of the house with a trail of chocolates last week.”

“O-kay, but-"

“And bought me a T-shirt that literally says _Small Human_ for my last birthday.”

“Yeah, I got your point.”

Chloe takes a few bites to gather her thoughts, and gives Trixie a pointed look until she finally starts eating, too. After a moment of consideration, she comes to the conclusion that she’ll be fine as long as she sticks to things Lucifer has always openly revealed about himself.

“So, to answer your question… at the time, my understanding is he was on vacation, so to speak. You could write the same thing, just put the UK instead of Hell.”

Trixie nods enthusiastically and writes something down, smearing a bit of tomato sauce on the paper. As crazy as it may seem, seeing her daughter happily do research about the Devil Chloe loves fills her with pride, maybe because it’s the exact opposite of the kind of research she threw herself into once. Trixie genuinely wants to know _Lucifer_, not whomever other people think he is.

“And it was his job to rule Hell because his Dad said it was. Right?”

After a second of surprise, Chloe figures Lucifer might have mentioned this in front of her as well, plus the information is only one click away. Trixie was baptized mostly to make Dan's family happy, but in general, Chloe never discussed religion with her; and after the whole Rome fuck-up, she honestly doesn’t have a lot of faith in Catholic institutions. So really, it all comes down to Trixie's own curiosity.

“Yeah, that’s correct.”

Trixie hesitates, buying time by staring at what she’s already written. Without taking her eyes off the paper, she twirls a bunch of spaghetti around her fork and brings it to her mouth.

“But why?” she asks as she chews. “What did Lucifer do? Was it that bad?”

Chloe doesn’t feel like a philosophical dissertation on free will has any place in Trixie’s homework, so she settles for something generic but truthful. “They just… had a disagreement, monkey. Lucifer’s Dad was too bossy and Lucifer didn’t like it. You remember when he told you that if you want to do something, you should just do it?”

Trixie nods. Chloe can’t help but take a moment to smile at the memory of a much younger girl with chocolate all over her face from a cake she swore she didn’t eat.

“Well, his Father didn’t agree with that. He thought He had to be the one to decide what Lucifer could or could not do.”

“_You_ decide what I can and can’t do,” Trixie replies, always ready to turn a conversation to her own advantage. Chloe glares at her, but deep down, she does appreciate the cleverness of the attempt.

“But you are a child, honey, and he was not. At some point down the line, I'll have to give you the freedom to be whoever you want to be, and Lucifer was denied that freedom. Does this make sense to you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it does,” Trixie says slowly, her brow furrowing. “So, uhm, God is… bad?”

Chloe swallows thickly, a bundle of spaghetti almost getting stuck in her throat. What now?

“We are going a bit off topic, don’t you think? This is about Lucifer,” she smiles tightly, hoping Trixie will take the hint. “So they fought, and Lucifer was kicked out of the, uhm, house. And after he fell-"

“Wait, he _fell_?” Trixie cuts her off, her eyes comically wide. “You mean literally?”

At this point, even Chloe’s dinner lies forgotten on her plate. “Y-yeah, monkey. Heaven is waaay up, and Hell is waaay down, you see.”

Is she sharing too much? Sometimes, Chloe worries about what all this will mean for Trixie going forward. Should she keep her daughter in the dark and allow her to wonder about this stuff, like everyone else does? The thing is, this ship might have sailed already anyway. Trixie knows the Devil exists, and it’s a knowledge she’ll live with for the rest of her life. Maybe it’s better to slowly introduce her into the supernatural world she is already a part of, thanks to Chloe’s involvement.

Whatever the case, Trixie doesn’t seem to be interested in the actual geography of celestial kingdoms, but in something else entirely.

“But… but it must have been so painful!” she exclaims, her eyes shiny and sad. Chloe feels her heart squeeze at the sight. Trixie is capable of so much empathy that it’s actually terrifying sometimes. The world won’t be any kinder in the face of _her_ kindness.

“Oh, Trix…” she trails off, before placing her hand on one of her daughter’s. “He’s okay now. He’s happy with us. It’s all that matters.”

Trixie turns her hand upwards to squeeze Chloe’s for a moment, then releases it to scribble something on the paper. Once she’s done, she picks up her fork again and eats in silence. Chloe does the same, until they are both finished with their dinner.

It’s only when she is clearing out the counter that Trixie finally speaks.

“I'll make sure he never falls again,” she whispers to herself, a quiet but powerful resolution Chloe doesn’t fully understand. It’s still terribly, heartbreakingly endearing, and she can’t help but ruffle her daughter’s hair in some sort of praise.

It will take her a while to realize Trixie was very, very literal.

  
  
_ What to do: _

_1\. Keep the secret (no matter the personal cost)_

Dan was supposed to have Trixie for the weekend, but when his mother requested his services for a plumbing emergency, he had to leave in a rush and Trixie refused to tag along. With Maze nowhere to be found and no babysitter available on short notice, the only solution is for Lucifer to stay at Chloe’s house. It’s not a big deal, and it’s not the first time they spend their free time at the loft instead of the penthouse (which theoretically has a guestroom for Trixie, but the lack of a bedroom door still poses a serious problem Lucifer simply refuses to fix for the _aesthetic_).

This morning, though, turns out to be a surprise for a whole new reason. When Chloe wakes up and gets off the bed to go to the bathroom, she walks around it and stops in her tracks at what she finds: around the bed, at least all along Lucifer’s side, the floor is covered with pillows, their sides pressed close together to create a soft, fluffy carpet of mismatched colors. They are all the pillows available in the house, from the living room, Trixie’s bedroom and even Maze’s, _somehow_.

Chloe scratches the back of her head, puzzled. It’s too early for her to get it, probably. Later, she’ll scold herself for being so oblivious, but for now, all she can do is shrug and go to the bathroom as intended. When she gets back to the room, she tiptoes around the sea of pillows on the floor and climbs back under the covers to spoon Lucifer for a bit longer, curling around him and pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck.

Her Devil makes a happy humming noise and keeps sleeping, with one of Chloe’s arms wrapped around his middle. Chloe loves these quiet, soft moments of peace, with his body warm and solid against hers, when they are not the Detective and her civilian consultant but simply Lucifer and Chloe, best friends and lovers. She cherishes them all in that corner of her heart that never stopped hoping she’d get to share this sort of easy intimacy with him.

She dozes off again, not falling asleep completely, but floating between wake and sleep enough to lose track of time. Then, it’s Lucifer’s time to wake up: he turns in her embrace, kisses her blindly (it lands on her closed eyelid, making her giggle) and disentangles himself from her to go to the bathroom like she did before.

As she watches him go with half-lidded eyes, Chloe realizes he’s still so sleepy he’s not even noticing the pillows under his bare feet as he walks. He only does on the way back, when he stops, tilts his head to the side and goes, “Uhm… what… is this?”

Chloe turns her face from the mattress to look at him and finds herself smiling. He looks so ridiculously adorable in the morning, with his hair free of product, curling and sticking up in all directions – a sight for her eyes only, one she was treated to only after they started dating, a clear sign of how much _more_ they share now.

He’s so pretty she almost feels like she has to make his life _harder_ somehow, just to make him sweat for something.

“They’re called pillows. Humans use them to sit or lie down more comfortably.”

Lucifer chuckles and shakes his head, somewhere between annoyance and amusement. “Darling, it’s way too early for you to be this articulate,” he objects. “I shall fix this immediately.”

His feet carry him over the pillows until he’s back on the bed, craving contact and warmth as he wraps himself around her like a vine. He starts nuzzling under her ear, peppering kisses down her neck before pulling at the hem of her oversized T-shirt to reveal her collarbone and kiss that, too. Chloe sighs, carding her fingers through his hair as he moves to the other collarbone, his body hovering above hers.

“So?” Lucifer whispers as his kisses get more and more heated, one hand stroking her side under the shirt, “Why did you put them there? There are no ceiling rafters for me to hang from upside down, you know.”

They have reached a point where this kind of statement doesn’t even cause a reaction from her, but at the question, Chloe’s slow brain finally seems to catch up. “I didn’t. I think Trixie did.”

Lucifer raises his head and stills, confusion evident on his face. “Why?”

_I'll make sure he never falls again_, Chloe suddenly recalls, putting two and two together. Oh, her selfless, adorable little monkey.

“I… can’t tell you,” she replies, biting her lip, and Lucifer pulls back even more, both his eyebrows raised.

“Detective, are you keeping secrets from me?” he asks, offended but in a playful sort of way.

“Just the one,” Chloe reassures him with a smile. He smiles back, trusting her, which might just be her favorite kind of rush – a sensation that makes her feel invincible.

“I see. Well, that’s exciting,” Lucifer says in a sultry tone, his voice dropping lower, already forgetting about this whole thing in favor of something he really, really loves: morning sex, whether slow and tender or quick and dirty right before work, it doesn’t matter.

His fingers find the knot at the front of her pyjama pants, untying it as he mouths at the hollow of her throat. Chloe is about to lift her hips to help him pull them down her legs, but then-

“Lucifer, wait. We- we can’t.”

“Come now, Detective, we both brushed. I say we’re good to go.”

“No, no,” Chloe chuckles, sitting up slightly to put distance between them and dissipate the cloud of lust around them, “I mean, Trixie was _in_ here. She must have picked the lock somehow. What if she comes back?”

Lucifer groans in frustration and slumps down on top of her, his face buried in her shirt and navel. “Bloody urchin,” he mumbles, not even lifting it from there.

“I bet it’s Ella’s doing,” Chloe reasons, stroking Lucifer’s hair absentmindedly. “With both her skills and Mazikeen’s at Trixie’s disposal, it will be a miracle if she doesn’t turn into a criminal mastermind.”

“Assuming she hasn’t already,” Lucifer quips, propping his chin up on his joined hands to look at her. “At least she will have my favors and your influence to get out of trouble.”

“Are you suggesting I would use my position to get in the way of justice?”

Lucifer’s eyes spark with mischief. “Well, _I_ most certainly would,” he admits, before suddenly turning more serious to add, “You know I would do anything for that little rascal.”

“Yeah,” Chloe tells him with fondness, brushing raven locks away from his forehead, “I know.”

_And she would do the same for you._

  
  
_2\. Sit back and watch (it’s in the little things)_

Lucifer in sweatpants and a tank top might just be the most jarring thing Chloe has ever seen in her life, which is _really_ saying something, but of course he pulls it off. The clothes he’s wearing are still ridiculously expensive and perfectly hug the curves of his body, and the black ball cap on his head, turned the other way around, gives him a boyish appearance she can’t help but find terribly attractive, especially paired with the way his arms and shoulders bulge from the confines of the top's cut sleeves.

Oh, those arms. She could write poems about those arms.

The soccer ball rolls back and forth between his feet and Amenadiel’s as they play on the grass close to where Chloe, Linda and Trixie are sitting on a checkered cloth. Charlie, a bit older and able to hide his wings at will, chases after it when they kick it too far to give it back to them, bubbly and excited at the _very_ important task that was assigned to him.

They do this now, Chloe, Lucifer, Amenadiel and Linda: they go to the park every now and then and just _be_, enjoying the sun and each other’s company. It helps the two angelic brothers bond, and it’s a good way for Chloe and Linda to find comfort in each other’s frustration at the inevitable issues that come from dealing with them on a daily basis. Amenadiel and Linda are not actually a _thing_, but Chloe has the feeling they’re getting there, although she never insists to know more than Linda is willing to share.

“Did I tell you he’s giving Charlie flying lessons now?” Linda asks with a nervous, high-pitched laugh as they all watch the three (well, two and a half) celestials play. “What was the point of unwrapping everything, I ask? I should have kept it that way until he leaves for college or something. It’s a good thing he heals quickly, otherwise his forehead would just be one big bump.”

Yes, Linda has actually told her this before, but Chloe is more than happy to let the poor woman vent. Honestly, she’ll never stop owing her for the work she does with Lucifer. The man he is now is partly the product of Linda’s stubbornness to not give up on him.

“So he can get hurt?” Trixie asks the therapist, briefly looking at Charlie giving the ball back to his dad. “He’s not like them?”

“Not exactly, no,” Linda replies with a smile that betrays a hint of sadness. “He’s half-human. He can get hurt like us, but heals fast like them. I also have the feeling he'll never stop aging, so he isn’t actually immortal, but… we really can’t know for sure. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

Chloe smiles at her and squeezes her hand. She knows Linda hates this uncertainty, but Charlie’s life is basically a first-time experiment unfolding before their eyes and they’re all learning as they go. A whole new adventure, in a way.

“For you, uncle Luci!” Charlie declares as he offers the ball to Lucifer, who cringes so hard they all laugh out loud at his expression.

“Ugh, must your hybrid spawn really call me that, Amenadiel? It makes me feel _old_.”

“You _are_ old!” Trixie teases him, cupping her hands around her mouth to be heard. “You’re both so old, you’re basically dinosaurs!”

Amenadiel laughs, his hands on his hips. Lucifer, instead, glares at Trixie with all the rage he can muster without his eyes turning red. “You take that back, offspring,” he warns, pointing a finger at her. “I'm not old, I’m _eternal_.”

“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to!” Trixie shrugs, leaning back to plant her palms flat on the cloth. A staring contest ensues, until Lucifer decides to let it go and resume playing. Trixie follows him attentively, her eyes darting in all directions, her body tensing every now and then when Lucifer trips or jumps to the side to catch the ball when Amenadiel throws it at him.

Chloe is reminded once again of her daughter’s vow and frowns slightly. “Monkey, he’s just playing. There’s no need to be-"

Trixie stands up before she can even finish the sentence, snatching Miss Alien from the corner where she left it. When they got out of the house, Chloe wondered why she was bringing it in the first place, since at this point it’s just a permanent fixture on a shelf in her room, but didn’t question it: Trixie is growing up but she’s still very attached to the stuffed toy she once gave Maze for protection (and that remained bloodstained to be a memento of the demon's trip to Canada, which makes for quite the creepy sight).

Curious, Chloe watches as her daughter reaches Lucifer and positions herself behind his back, shadowing him as he moves. She’s so tiny in comparison that Lucifer, facing the other way, doesn’t even notice her until he stumbles and falls on his butt, though not on the grass as he should have.

Trixie, in fact, has managed to slip Miss Alien under him in time, and the stuffed monster has cushioned his fall. The girl crosses her arms over her chest and smiles down at him proudly, while Lucifer blinks at her in total confusion.

“Oh, that's just adorable!” a woman pushing a stroller comments as she passes them by, “It’s so cute that your daughter cares about you so much!”

Lucifer chokes on his own words, mouth opening and closing like that of a fish out of the water.

“My- my _what_?”

  
  
_3\. Bring them together (the result may surprise you)_

Lucifer and Chloe stare at the bottom of the Devil’s oversized bathtub, heads comically tilted to the side. The surface is covered in flat rubber ducklings, bright yellow and happy to perform their sacred duty.

“How… how did she even…?” Lucifer trails off – after the pillows and the park incident, he has at least come to the conclusion that Trixie is up to something, although he has no idea what.

“Now will you finally believe me when I tell you your penthouse is ridiculously unsafe?” Chloe scolds him, while secretly wondering if Trixie skipped _school_ to pull this off, because when else would she have found the time and opportunity to sneak into the apartment with no one being there?

“Yes, yes,” Lucifer replies with a dismissive wave of his hand, “I'll install a lock, you’re right. Although at this point, who knows what that little sh…ugar fairy is even capable of. Forget priests and thugs: _she_ is the danger we should be worried about.”

“Yeah, sure,” Chloe comments with a roll of her eyes.

“No, I'm serious! Bathtub stickers in the Devil’s bathroom? I'm telling you, Detective, we are finally witnessing what evil incarnate _really_ looks like.”

The ability to joke with lightness about serious things they might have said in the past is another pillar of the relationship they now have. It’s bittersweet, but it’s them, and Chloe embraces it fully.

After filling the tub with water and soap, they undress and climb in it together, the ridiculous ducklings providing perfect grip under the soles of their feet before they settle down under the surface. Lucifer lies down with his back against the edge, and Chloe sits in his lap, head leaning back to rest on his shoulder.

The Devil washes her hair sweetly, silently, scratching at her scalp with talented fingers. Despite his ever-present eagerness, there is nothing sexual in his touch: he’s learning, under her guidance, to enjoy this type of contact and closeness without it having to lead to something more.

“You really don’t want to tell me where you’re taking me tomorrow morning?” he whispers in her ear, yet another attempt that won’t work.

“Nope,” Chloe replies, excited at the prospect now that the day is almost upon them. “Come on, I kept the secret this whole time, you can’t expect me to give it up now.”

Lucifer sighs. Chloe feels it against her back. “Fine. At least I'll finally know what this whole thing has been about.”

“Yes, you will.”

The morning after, they take her car and leave the penthouse for Trixie’s school (still unbeknownst to Lucifer). Chloe’s daughter will already be there, after being dropped off by Dan. Chloe doesn’t know if her ex husband will also stay for the big event, but she’ll find out soon enough.

Lucifer squirms in the passenger seat when Chloe parks the car in the dedicated area, the building threateningly looming before them, the air filled with children’s voices. She knows they might as well be damned souls screaming, as far as her boyfriend is concerned.

“Lucifer doesn’t like,” he declares, and Chloe can’t decide if the use of the third person makes him seem more an obnoxious royal or a petulant child. Still, he climbs out of the car without her having to insist, which is already a victory.

“I promise you he will,” Chloe reassures him as she closes the door on her side. “Do you trust me?”

She walks around the vehicle to reach him, and Lucifer takes her hand in his. “With my life, Detective,” he says in complete honesty and seriousness, making her legs go weak.

Chloe leads him inside and to the classroom where she knows she’ll find Trixie and the other students. It’s been a while since Trixie actually submitted the infamous essay and got her mark, but she still asked Chloe to wait before speaking to Lucifer about it. Today, in fact, the best ones will be read out loud and the teacher asked the children to invite the people they wrote about to be present. Trixie’s was indeed among the best ones, so here they are.

Not even Chloe knows what it says. Trixie refused to read it to her beforehand. She’s so damn curious she can barely keep herself in check.

They enter the classroom to stand along the side wall with the other adults who got invited. Mostly parents and grandparents by the looks of it, and younger or older children who she assumes are friends or brothers and sisters of the students of the class. Dan waves at them from one corner and silently reaches them, also clearly eager to listen to his daughter’s work.

Does he know who is the subject of it? Chloe isn’t sure. It took him a while, but at some point along the way he stopped being jealous of Trixie’s affection for Lucifer, partly helped by Linda, she imagines. Still, she hopes he won’t be disappointed in case he expects the essay to be about himself instead.

On the blackboard, the teacher has written “A person I am grateful for having in my life" in white chalk. Chloe catches Lucifer staring at it with a puzzled expression on his face, and can practically sense his restlessness in the air.

“I- I still don’t understand what I'm doing here,” he whispers. It’s a lie, Chloe feels, but she’ll let it slide. She grips his hand more tightly between them and gives him an encouraging smile.

Three children speak before Trixie, holding the paper in front of them as they stand near the teacher’s desk for everyone to hear. They praise a mother, a best friend and a grandfather, respectively, and after they’re done everyone in the room claps enthusiastically. Chloe would do so, too, but Lucifer's grip has turned as strong as iron around her hand, and clammy with sweat. He's so nervous he hasn’t even complained about the children in the room once.

Trixie finally leaves her desk and walks to the assigned spot. She seems nervous, but then her eyes find Dan's and Chloe’s, who nod at her minutely. The girl nods to herself in response, then takes a deep breath.

“There are many people I am grateful for having in my life,” she starts, her voice growing stronger with every word. “I have a lot of nice friends, and two parents who are friends with each other and love me very much.”

Chloe and Dan share a look of pride before turning back towards her. They screwed up over the years, but in the end, and despite it all, they really are doing this right.

“But there is a person in particular who actually _changed_ my life, and I mean completely. And that person is my mom's boyfriend, Lucifer Morningstar.”

Blood drains from Lucifer’s face, his hand cold in Chloe’s grasp. She can feel him as stiff as a log beside her, holding his breath, almost not breathing at all. Dan doesn’t seem surprised instead, which probably means Trixie informed him about it.

“Lucifer and my mom met through work,” the girl starts to explain for context, helped by the conversation she had with Chloe. “My mom is a homicide detective, while he owns a nightclub, but one day he decided he wanted to solve crimes, too. So he tagged along with her, and they both came to my school because I had kicked a mean girl where the sun doesn’t shine.”

The whole room laughs, amused by her candor. Lucifer gives a small chuckle, no doubt taking a moment to recall the memory.

“You see, the truth is that Lucifer comes from far, far away,” Trixie continues, and Lucifer stiffens again. “He used to live overseas, but he had a job he didn’t like because he wasn’t the one who chose it. So he quit and came here to reinvent himself, but he had no family, because he had a big fight with his dad.”

Chloe glances at Lucifer to make sure this is fine, that he doesn’t feel like his life is being put on display. He never had any issue sharing it, but Chloe didn’t know this would happen when she filled in the blanks for Trixie, and now she does worry. But more than anything, Lucifer looks… in awe. Completely, utterly shocked. Dan seems incredibly endeared by it all, too.

“The thing I like the most about Lucifer is that he loves to be free,” Trixie keeps going, now glancing up at Lucifer for reassurance, smiling back at his tentative smile. “That when he wants something, he gets it. He has an _amazing_ house with steps leading to his bedroom – like a princess! – and a cool car that makes my hair fly all over the place when I ride along with him. He likes to sing, and so he sings. He likes to play the piano, and so he plays the piano. And he loves my mom, and so he tells her, even though _that_ took a veeery long time.”

Some people go “Awww!”, others laugh. Lucifer, as quiet as a grave, lets go of Chloe’s hand to wrap his arm around her waist, and she leans into him, her heart bursting with joy.

“Why am I grateful for having Lucifer in my life?” Trixie asks, cleverly pausing for suspense – is there a little actress in her, deep down? “Well, first of all, thanks to him I met my best friend in the whole world, whose name is Mazikeen. She lives with me and my mom, and she is _awesome_. She is a bounty hunter, and I like that she’s teaching me how to defend myself.”

Chloe makes a mental note to herself to have Maze read this, too. Will she actually manage to make a demon cry? She feels like her chances are pretty high, judging by the emotion on the Devil’s face when Trixie continues.

“Second: Lucifer has made my life weirder and more exciting, because the strangest things happen when he’s around. He calls me in funny ways that make me laugh, and can pull magic tricks no one else can. Third: he has made me realize that family isn’t just the people you are related to, but the people you choose to protect because you don’t want them to be hurt again.”

Chloe hears a sound that makes her look up. Did Lucifer just… sniff? His eyes are shining and his jaw is a hard, quivering line.

“Lucifer, are you tearing up?”

“Shut up,” her boyfriend shoots back, looking away. “That’s just preposterous.”

Trixie seems to be reaching the end of her essay, or at least it feels that way. Finally, she reveals, “That’s why I have been keeping an eye on him lately, because he was treated badly before and I don’t want him to suffer again. To… fall. Well, I have realized that it’s impossible to keep him from falling, but what I can do is make sure the landing is soft, and so I have.”

In a sea of half lies and metaphors, this sentence might sound like one, but it’s actually literal. The wisdom in it goes far beyond Trixie’s years, and yet she came up with it all on her own. Chloe herself is struggling not to cry, and Dan as well. They all look ridiculous, but she doesn’t care.

“So thank you, Lucifer, for being in my life. And remember: with the _urchin_ around, you won't have to worry about falling, ever again.”

Trixie lowers the paper to her side and looks back into the crowd. The audience claps and shouts praises, and with her hands now free, Chloe can do the same. Tucked next to Lucifer’s side, she can feel him shaking where he stands.

They have to wait for two other children to speak before the students can be allowed to leave their desks and say goodbye to the people they invited. Whispering as not to disturb, Chloe asks, “So? Did Lucifer like?”

“Y-yes,” Lucifer croaks before clearing his throat, “he most certainly did.”

She leaves him be after that. He clearly needs a moment, and she is happy to give it to him. When all the essays have been recited, Trixie finally walks up to them, a happy bounce in her step.

“That was amazing, munchkin,” Dan is the first to congratulate her, stroking her hair.

“Oh, Trixie, that was so sweet. Thank you for letting us hear it,” Chloe adds, smiling down at her. Then she turns toward Lucifer, and Trixie does too, expectant and suddenly on edge. Obviously, Lucifer’s opinion matters most of all in this case.

“What- what did you think, Lucifer?” Trixie prods when it’s clear he can’t get a word out of his mouth. “Was that okay?”

Lucifer unwraps his arm from around Chloe’s waist and fidgets, playing with his cufflinks to buy some time. “I-" he starts, then swallows audibly. “Beatrice, I don’t know what to say.”

Chloe is pretty sure no one has ever declared their feelings in so many words to him, not his family, and not even her. To be fair, somewhere down the line adults seem to lose the ability or willingness to do so, and Trixie is the only child Lucifer deals with regularly, aside from Charlie who is still too young to properly express himself.

“Just say that you got what I meant,” Trixie tells him, once again wise beyond her years.

Lucifer smiles in a way that is strikingly similar to how he smiled when Chloe told him she loved him for the first time. It is, to this day, one of the most beautiful and heartbreaking things she has ever seen in her life.

“Yeah, I did.”

When Trixie launches herself at him to wrap her arms around his legs, for the first time, the _very_ first time, Lucifer doesn’t flinch. He crouches down to her height, spreads his arms for her to fit into, and hugs her back.

It’s the softest landing anyone could hope for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will confess I teared up while writing this cause I am too soft sometimes. Lucifer would say "Don't get high on your own supply", but that's exactly what I did. Hope you liked reading this as much as I loved writing it! A lot of love to all ❤


	10. How to... understand his texts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s hard to communicate with your boyfriend when most of his texts are nothing but a series of (apparently) nonsensical emojis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the #PromptSmiles initiative launched on Twitter by NotOneLine, to cheer people up during these difficult times. Also featuring a suggestion by MoanDiary.
> 
> Wherever you are, dear reader, I hope this will put a smile on your face! From a fanwriter on lockdown, stay positive, and enjoy ❤

Chloe looks up from her mug of coffee at the sound of the front door opening and closing, releasing a sigh of relief before she can stop herself.

“Lucifer, what the hell! Where did you go?!”

Even at this ungodly hour, Lucifer looks as if he just jumped out of a fashion magazine, of course, indirectly shaming her, her mismatched pyjama set and her messy bun. He walks toward her in his burgundy three-piece suit and deposits a pink box of donuts on the counter with an exaggerated flourish, before sitting on the stool next to hers.

“I got donuts,” the Devil declares with an infuriatingly innocent, boyish smile, as if 1) it wasn’t already obvious and 2) he didn’t disappear from the bed while she was sleeping with nothing more than an enigmatic text as an explanation for his absence.

“And you didn’t simply _write_ it because…”

“What do you mean, I didn’t write it?” He fishes his phone out of his pocket, unlocks it and shows the screen to her. “There, see? That’s a donut, Detective. Considering your line of business, I thought you’d be more perceptive.”

Chloe shoots him a glare, then stares at the text in question once again. Well, yes, there is _a_ donut, but…

“What about the rest?” She starts pointing at each symbol. “Fire, sword, donut, zombie, alarm clock, dancing lady, torchlight, thumbs up? What does this even _mean_?”

Lucifer rolls his eyes as if _she_ was the one being ridiculous.

“We were on _fire_ last night, so I thought I'd _cut down_ on our usual morning sex for today and get you _donuts_. But you were _dead_ asleep, so I decided to let you rest until your _alarm_ would go off – at which point you'd make a happy _dance_ and _light up_ at the sight of me and said delicacies; all good!” He frowns. “Though I will say… you disappointed me there in the end. That was a very underwhelming reaction – should I get out and in again? We could-”

“Get _back_ here!” Chloe has to literally reach out and grab his arm to stop him from picking up the box and heading out the door. “Lucifer, you do realize that typing _words_ would have taken you less time than this, right?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Wrong. Emojis are so versatile, Detective! That text is almost identical to the one I sent Amenadiel to explain Mum's departure to another universe. I just switched the astronaut with the zombie. Imagine that! Such a clever method of communication – I love this about you humans.”

Chloe pinches the bridge of her nose. It’s too early for this.

“It’s not _clever_ if people can’t _understand_ you.”

Lucifer crosses his arms over his chest. “Perhaps some _people_ are just not clever enough.”

Oh, really? Is that how this is going to go? Well, _fine_.

Chloe opens the box, dips her index finger right into the chocolate coating of a donut and smears it all along the length of his nose.

“You take that back,” she orders, barely managing not to laugh at his outraged expression and ruin the seriousness she is trying to convey. Then Lucifer smirks, and she _so_ knows what is about to happen.

“Never,” the Devil announces defiantly, before paying her back in the same coin, but by smearing white chocolate on one of her cheeks.

They end up in a tangle of arms, spreading sugary colors on each other’s faces and laughing until Lucifer stands up and crowds her, blocking her arms against her sides by hugging her tightly. Chloe struggles for a bit longer, but then their giggles die down and they find themselves just staring at each other and breathing heavily.

“You’re mine now, Detective,” Lucifer whispers with sudden intensity – it’s obvious that the sentence goes beyond the game they just finished playing, and Chloe melts under the heat of his gaze. Then Lucifer leans closer and licks the tip of her nose. “Oh, and you taste delicious, too.”

Chloe pushes herself forward and kisses him, smiling against the unusual sweetness of his lips. Mint, strawberry, maybe a hint of honey, too? A pity all the flavors are now on their skin instead of the donuts themselves, but well, she can still find a way to savor them.

When she tightens her hands into fists around the fabric of his suit, she realizes he'll have to get changed, but Lucifer doesn’t seem to mind.

And as it turns out, _he_ tastes just as delicious as her.

  
  
_ What to do: _

_1\. Put together a team of experts_

Chloe taps on the image projected on the wall with a wooden chopstick (this wasn’t planned enough, otherwise she would have come up with something better, but alas).

“So? Anyone?”

The various people she summoned to the meeting room of the precinct stare back at her in silence, looking just as confused as she feels. Chloe groans and raises her arms in the air.

“I mean, seriously? Amenadiel, you’re his _brother_! Mazikeen, you have been by his side for forever!” The angel and the demon shrug, unimpressed by her outburst. “Linda, you basically have unlimited access to the man’s _psyche_!”

Linda sighs. “I wish it was that easy. And I also wish you people would get into your heads that I have _other_ clients, too. You said it was an emergency! I cancelled an _appointment_ for this, Chloe.”

“It _is_ an emergency,” Chloe sulks, unrelenting. “I am going crazy here.”

“Clearly,” Dan mutters under his breath, suppressing a laugh. Ella elbows him in the ribs, but it’s clear that she’s not taking this seriously, either. So much for being all part of a tribe!

“How did you get him out of here, anyway?” Amenadiel pipes up, tilting his head to the side. “It’s almost impossible to make him leave your side.”

Despite her annoyance, Chloe smiles at the implication, and Ella proudly explains for her, “Oh, I sent him to get my coffee order, but I bribed our usual coffee shop and others in the vicinity into telling him they ran out of sprinkles. It will take him a while. He won’t be back until he gets it right.”

Also true, and just as ridiculously endearing. Chloe sighs, her heart filling with tenderness at the – _No! Hey! Focus!_

“Okay, let’s go over it again.” From around the table, they all look up in exasperation, but she ignores them. “The last two definitely mean ‘weekend’, right? I mean, a weekly calendar and the arrow with END written under it, that’s simple enough. So… what about the weekend?”

“When did he send this, again?” Mazikeen asks – boots on the table, boredom evident on her face. Of course, Chloe has told her _already_: why are they wasting precious time here?

“Yesterday,” she still replies, and Maze’s brow furrows.

“So how did you answer if you still don’t know what he meant to say?”

Chloe feels everyone’s eyes on her. Squirming, she looks at her feet and whispers, “I just texted ‘Okay’ back.”

Mazikeen laughs, while the others do a bad job at hiding how much they want to. Awesome. Just awesome. Why does Chloe even count on these people?!

“You know what? Make fun of me all you want! At the end of the day, _none_ of you is getting it, so we are all dumb together!” Ugh, did she just confirm Lucifer’s statement that it’s _their_ fault if they don’t understand it? Unbelievable. It’s a good thing he’s not here.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait.”

Trixie’s eyes narrow as she focuses on the symbols projected on the wall, a mirror of Chloe’s own phone screen: “🐻😈,🕵🏼♀: 🧀🍑💏🙌🏻🗓🔚❓”

Chloe’s face brightens in anticipation as wheels spin inside her daughter’s head: honestly, the girl might have the highest chance of understanding the inner workings of Lucifer’s mind, since he's basically an oversized child with wings. Chloe forced her to skip karate for a reason.

“Okay, the detective emoji is you, obviously. And he’s telling you that he, the Devil, is… a teddy bear. And that this weekend he wants you both to eat cheese and peaches… with your hands.”

“I say the kid’s right. I'm outta here,” Mazikeen declares, before finally removing her feet from the table and standing from her chair. Chloe doesn’t really agree, but decides to let her go: the demon’s input has been nonexistent anyway.

“Maybe a bear attacked him, but he won, and now he wants to celebrate with a fancy dinner with you,” Amenadiel suggests as Maze closes the glass door behind her and leaves.

“Yeah, sure. A bear attacked him. In downtown LA,” Dan scoffs, disbelieving.

Amenadiel almost looks offended as he replies, “I’m still at a loss as to what kind of wildlife dwells in human settlements, Dan. There was a time when it wouldn’t have been so uncommon, when man and beasts lived in close proximity as God intended.”

Dan shifts uncomfortably in his chair, baffled by Amenadiel’s serious tone. As much as he tries, the angel always seems at least slightly out of place, despite the fact that unlike Lucifer, he doesn’t brag about his celestial identity to whoever happens to be listening. Chloe is pretty sure Dan is convinced the two brothers were raised by some crazy cult of religious fanatics, which, uh… sort of?

“O-okay, man,” is the only thing her ex-husband is able to come up with.

“I agree with the teddy bear theory, Chlo,” Ella jumps in to defuse the awkwardness. “I mean, he is, isn’t he?”

“Can I go now?” Linda protests weakly, raising her hand like a student asking for permission to go to the bathroom. Chloe takes pity on her: she does have a job, after all.

“Fine, fine. Thank you for your time, Linda.” But as the doctor stands up to leave, Chloe realizes it’s all useless anyway, and continues, “Let’s just drop this, guys. Or we could take the day to think about it and regroup, yeah?”

She tries to ignore the panic her sentence elicits.

“Yeaaah, sure thing, Chlo! We’ll totally do that!” Ella replies enthusiastically, _too_ enthusiastically, meaning that no, they will totally not do that; but all Chloe can do is accept defeat.

By the time the weekend rolls around, she has resigned herself to the fact that she might have agreed to something she'll regret, knowing Lucifer. So it’s actually a relief when the Devil walks through her apartment’s door and says, “Detective, darling! Ready for our spa day?”

Chloe blinks, then grabs her phone and aggressively scrolls through their messages to find the infamous string of emojis. When she does, she basically shoves the device in Lucifer’s face.

“Go on, explain this to me. I'm curious at this point.”

Lucifer frowns at the screen, then turns it so she can see it as he goes, “Bear with me, Detective: I know it’s cheesy, but would you like to go for a couples massage with me this weekend?”

Bear with me. _Bear_ with me. And what the hell is up with the peach? _I know it’s cheesy, but…_

But.

_Butt._

“Oh… my… God.”

“Hey! Rude!”

  
  
_2\. Try and speak the same language_

“🕵🏼♀, 🚓💡🌚❓”

“Seriously, who uses the question mark emoji instead of the _actual_ one? This is ridiculous.”

Trixie looks up from her homework and leans across the table until Chloe slides the phone toward her, before burying her face in her hands. A moment of silence passes before her daughter gasps: did she get it right? As Chloe lifts her head to look at her, she hopes it is so. She’s _tired_.

“Does he want you to go install a lightbulb on the _moon_? No, wait, maybe he just wants you to join him! I bet he can do that! I mean, he made the stars! He can fly! There’s nothing he _can’t_ do!”

“Aside from writing a normal text message, you mean.”

Trixie frowns. “Well, yeah.”

The girl slides the phone back toward her, shrugging. As far as she’s concerned, her job is clearly done, and the fact that Chloe actually considers her hypothesis is a testament to the absurdity that is her life.

Now, of course she could call him and ask. But to let him win again? No, that just won’t do. Maybe, if she manages to confuse _him_ in turn, he’ll finally decide to use _words_. He knows those exist, right?

It takes her a while to put together the most random sequence of symbols she can think of: stack of cash, firefighter, tennis racket, vampire, trombone and… UFO? Yes, that’s right. Serves him well.

He will be the one calling, she’s sure of it. Good luck with it, Satan.

But instead, her phone simply vibrates with a new incoming text: “😍👍🏻”. Chloe stares at it for a long, long moment. What the… why is he excited? What is he even _agreeing_ to?

She can’t believe she’s surrendering and calling him, and yet. “Lucifer? What do you think I just texted you, exactly?”

He sounds as cheery as ever on the other end of the line, the God-given nightmare. “Detective! Well, I simply asked if you wanted to come to Lux tonight,” – Lux as in _light_, night as in _moon_, why didn’t she get it? – “but if you want to do more than spend a quiet night in, you only need to ask!”

Chloe already dreads the answer. “What… are you talking about?”

“Well, you’ll have to give me some time, but if you want to make it rain on a stripper, spank a Dracula cosplayer, get creative with a bunch of musical instruments and whip out the alien masks, the Devil is more than happy to oblige and fulfill your kinky fantasies! And I must say… you do surprise me, Detective. Goodness, it’s been a while since the last party… let’s hope Nigel is free tonight, fingers crossed!”

And he cuts the call, because of course he does. And when she tries calling him again, the line is busy, because of course it is.

Resigned, Chloe stands up from the table. “I need to go, monkey. Will you be okay with Maze? Just tell her to order something for dinner, and I'll try to be back soon.”

Trixie nods and studies her, confused by the sudden decision. “No problem, mom. So… you’re really going to the moon with Lucifer?”

_No, I'm going to stop a dress-up sex party, but close enough._

Thinking about it, though, Lucifer did seem pretty excited, and well... maybe the firefighter can stay? Those are hot. He probably thinks so, too.

Chloe shrugs, and heads out the door.

  
  
_3\. Turn to logic for answers_

There has to be a reason. Chloe can’t shake the thought out of her head. There _has_ to be a reason behind this obsession, and behind how this habit seems to have started out of the blue, at least with her.

Lucifer is at Lux, and she is alone in front of her laptop and a glass of wine. So she thinks. And thinks. And thinks.

She remembers how the smartphone was an amazing new discovery for Lucifer, especially the gaming aspect, the Internet, the dating apps (as if he actually needed them – the man used to host orgies even without them, for Heaven’s sake). But the texting, too, it seems, with its infinite and clever possibilities. An expression of humanity’s ability to evolve, in a way: it makes sense that a being as ancient as him (_Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it_) would be fascinated by it. It’s one of those things that make _more_ sense, now that she knows who he is.

But why is he hell-bent on using images instead of words? Why can’t he just _mix_ them like everybody else? He almost uses them as if they were ideograms.

No. Not almost. He _does_.

In a sudden frenzy, Chloe pushes the wine glass aside and opens Google to start researching. Sumerian cuneiform characters, the birth of the Chinese writing system, the rise of Egyptian hieroglyphs: Lucifer must have seen them all. As insane as it sounds, maybe this is the reason.

Since her boyfriend once told her that he learned the art of eye make-up in ancient Egypt (Cleopatra taught him – not weird at all, right?), Chloe focuses on hieroglyphs. Furthermore, she now remembers that she recently caught him and Trixie watching a documentary about it: that must have been the trigger for him to start communicating like this again. All the pieces of the puzzle fit.

She starts reading aloud, “According to context, the same sign can be a logogram, which means that it represents a word or phrase, or a phonogram, which means that it stands for a sound, independently of its visual characteristics: the rebus principle of an _eye_ standing for the word _I_.”

Okay. So, like the bear or the butt – uhm, the peach. Well, the Devil clearly put his spin on it, as with everything else. Chloe can’t help but laugh at how cheeky he can be, no matter how nostalgic for older, more solemn times.

It does help a bit, because at least now she knows that sometimes she has to go beyond how an image simply looks. But to be honest, the whole thing will keep being a mystery: there is no Rosetta Stone to decipher the ancient code that is Lucifer Morningstar and his Luciferness, and a part of her is actually glad. What fun would it be otherwise?

Shaking her head in amusement, Chloe grabs her phone from the table and opens their chat to type and send: “🕵🏼♀❤😈”.

It only takes a moment to receive the reply: “😈❤❤❤🕵🏼♀”.

Now, Chloe is no Cleopatra, but this one is easy enough. She chuckles, her eyes crinkling at the corners: Lucifer is indeed a child, in a way, but God, she is too. He makes her so ridiculously giddy sometimes, and happy, and-

“🍆👌🏻🙏🏻”

Right. Nevermind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the longest amount of time I spent scrolling through the emojis on my phone 😂 serious research, indeed!


	11. How to... adjust to his mannerisms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s hard to interpret your boyfriend’s weirdest behaviors until you realize he’s just a big fluffy bird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the #PromptsForSmiles project on Twitter, fulfilling the prompt: “Chloe notices Lucifer’s odd mannerisms that must be the angel in him. They make him weird, but she finds them to be adorable.” With suggestions from a bunch of lovely people (you know who you are!).

It takes a while for Lucifer to start keeping his wings out around her. A matter of trust, Chloe supposes, though she doesn’t ask. Sometimes it’s nice to enjoy how a relationship changes naturally over time, without the need to rationalize it; and when you are dating an angel, especially, things evolve in the most unexpected ways.

It’s subtle, but she notices. It tends to happen in the penthouse, more than at her house, supposedly because after Lucifer finally agreed to install a lock with a password to type in, the loft is a riskier place in terms of people (mostly Dan) randomly walking in.

Chloe will ride the elevator up to his apartment to find him reading a book on the couch, his legs crossed and his wings bent inwards: one supporting the book itself, the other idly flipping the page with a soft but conveniently heavy feather. Other times, she will walk in on him playing a game on his phone in the middle of the bed, sprawled on his stomach with his wings draped lazily over the sheets and his legs kicking in the air childishly.

Initial surprise slowly turns to fondness on her face, and every time she tries to be quieter than the one before, just to enjoy the view for a bit longer before Lucifer notices her standing there, staring at him dreamily like the lovestruck fool that she is. He never calls her out on it, though: he just beams in that way no one else can and pats the spot next to him, inviting her to sit or lie down in the presence of real, palpable, actual proof of the divine.

Surprisingly, it’s the most normal thing in the world, because it’s theirs.

In time, Chloe starts noticing other things, too. Bizarre things, or at least not necessarily obvious when one pictures the everyday life of an angel. Then again, no one ever does.

Lucifer’s wings are… alive. Well, duh, of course they are: they are attached to a living being. But when she saw them for the first time, Chloe presumed their only purpose was flying. She didn’t expect them to… react to what she says or does. And yet, it’s precisely what they do.

The first time she realizes it, they are in the middle of a fight – the first with Lucifer’s wings out, otherwise she probably would have noticed before. The family dinner he attended with her last night didn’t go so well; something Chloe should have seen coming after that one time he got a murder suspect to cook for them, but in a way, she thought it could be a good opportunity for him to redeem himself. Well, no such luck.

“I thought I had been clear with you, Lucifer! Dan's family is very religious, there was no point in arguing with them about certain stuff! Couldn’t you just let it go for once?”

She’s sitting on one of the stools along the bar, while Lucifer paces back and forth with a tumbler of scotch in his hand and his wings tucked close to his back. They gave themselves a day to cool off and then talk about it, but apparently, they are both still pretty pissed.

“And let them sing His praises right there in front of me, Detective? Absolutely preposterous! I can’t believe you wouldn’t take my side!”

Chloe sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You _know_ I am on your side. It’s just… sometimes it’s better to stay silent and keep the peace, that’s all! Especially when you know the other person is not going to change their mind! It was just a dinner, and I had _asked_ you to be on your best behavior!”

Lucifer suddenly stops pacing and rounds on her, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “My best behavior!” he parrots, voice rising in pitch. “What am I, a bloody dog? I’ll behave however I see fit, Detective, thank you very much!”

Chloe laughs, out loud and suddenly. She just can’t help it. Because the moment he turned to reply to her, his wings… they went _poof_. They… grew, sort of, puffing up in a clear show of anger and outrage, and it was one of the funniest things she had ever seen.

“Why are you laughing?!” Lucifer asks, his tone accusing and clearly hurt. Chloe tries to stop, but fails.

“I'm…” she starts, then wipes a tear of mirth away from her cheek, “I'm sorry, it’s just- Lucifer, your wings!”

“What about my- Oh.” He stops and frowns when he takes a look at them, and that’s when Chloe realizes it was absolutely involuntary. Well, at least on _his_ part. It’s like the limbs have a life and will of their own.

Lucifer sighs, and as his shoulders slump from his previously tense posture, his feathers slowly droop and sag until they lie flat as usual.

“Pesky little buggers,” he mumbles under his breath, eyeing them both as if scolding two naughty children. It’s absolutely adorable, and Chloe giggles again, earning herself a glare.

“I'm sorry, it’s just so cute!” she tries to explain, but Lucifer's scowl only intensifies.

“No, it’s not! I'm the Devil, I'm not _cute_.”

“You are.”

“I'm not.”

“Well, you are to _me_. So, deal with it,” Chloe declares with finality, crossing her arms over her chest. At least the discovery steered them away from the subject of their disagreement, and it’s clear now that neither of them is really that angry anymore. They look at each other with a small smile on their lips, the atmosphere now relaxed and playful between them.

Lucifer presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek, leaves his tumbler on the piano and stalks toward her with sudden intent, a panther that just so happens to have a pair of wings attached to his back. Chloe lets him crowd her against the edge of the bar, arms and wings circling around her.

“I'll show you _cute_,” Lucifer whispers against her lips before kissing her sensually, slipping his tongue in as one of his feathers traces her spine from the nape of her neck all the way to her lower back, making her shiver.

And truth be told, what they end up doing on that same bar will be anything but cute.

*

The bird comparison only dawns on her later, although it’s not something entirely new given her acquaintance with the concept of angelic molting (fluff on the floor, feathers clogging the tub and sticking to sheets, remember? Well, she does). But that only happens once a year, so for the rest of the time, it’s easy to forget.

This image, instead, will take a while to leave her mind.

She steps into the penthouse only to find it empty, even though she notified Lucifer about the time of her arrival. After a quick detour to the bathroom and kitchen to see if he might be there, she retreats back to the main area and is just about to text him again when he appears, or more accurately, lands. On the balcony. Under the pouring rain.

“Bloody _hell!_” he exclaims, lifting his arms in the air exasperatedly as he glares at the sky, then squinting when (obviously) rain ends up directly into his eyes. “What is the point of watching that wretched weather forecast then, eh? A bloody travesty, that’s what it is!”

“Lucifer!” Chloe yells over the sound of the rain, running toward the open glass doors to put an end to his one-sided tirade, “Lucifer, get inside!”

He storms in with his face set in a deep scowl, completely drenched – suit, hair and wings. The dark locks in the front are plastered to his forehead, while the ones on top of his head are damp and curling. The fabric of his clothes clings to the defined lines of his body, his white shirt – now basically see-through – revealing the skin of his chest. Focusing on helping him is… hard, but Chloe is strong.

“Stay here, I'll get you a towel,” she tells him, so he won’t leave a trail of water all around the penthouse. When she comes back, he finds him barechested, wet jacket and shirt now on the floor and soaked wings still out. The feathers are all smoothed down by the rain, shiny and dripping, until he does a full-body ruffling motion that sends drops everywhere, effectively spraying her.

“Hey!” Chloe chastises him, but sporting a cheeky smile that tells him she’s not mad.

“Sorry,” Lucifer says anyway. His feathers are now sticking up in all directions, same as his hair. Together with his frown, they give him a ridiculous appearance, and Chloe can’t help but tell him as much when she starts drying his curls with the towel, raising herself on her tiptoes.

“You look like a big white owl that was left under the rain,” she giggles, rubbing the towel into his hair before brushing it over his face, shoulders and arms. “Why did you go out in this weather?”

“It was _sunny_ when I took off,” he sulks, almost pouting. “I felt like flying for a while, but Dear Old Dad must have decided to _literally_ rain on my parade.”

“You once told me He’s in no way meteorologically inclined,” Chloe points out – and wow, that was such a long time ago, back when he didn’t even _have_ wings.

Lucifer shrugs and looks away. “Ah well, you never know with Him. Might have made another exception after the whole Noah thing, just to spite me.”

“Sure,” Chloe indulges his tendency to be dramatic, because sometimes there really is no point in arguing with him, plus it’s terribly endearing. “Now let’s dry your wings, you stupid bird.”

_Poof_, they go again, almost doubling in size. But this time they vibrate, too, towering over her to… threaten her.

“I'm _not_ a bird,” Lucifer objects while acting exactly like one, oblivious to the irony.

Biting back a reply, Chloe sets to work, walking around him to cover his impossibly huge wingspan. Lucifer’s puffed up wings relax under her care, her free hand putting each feather back into place after drying it. Lucifer’s face softens as he watches her: Chloe can glimpse it out of the corner of her eye, smiling slyly at him, enjoying the way the angel stretches his wings farther apart to help her perform her task.

“Thank you, Chloe,” he whispers suddenly. The wing closer to her curls around her frame, and when she looks back at him, she finds his head tilted to the side almost in fascination, eyes awed and bright. He looks disheveled and unbearably young with those secret dark curls of his, a small and ruffled chick you want to cradle in the palm of your hand.

He’s the Devil, and this is ridiculous, but then again isn’t _he_ at least a tiny bit ridiculous?

“You’re welcome,” Chloe tells him, stroking down the wing curled around her. Lucifer perks up at the attention, his head suddenly alert and his wings emitting a low buzz of energy and light; purring, in a way, but the cat comparison wouldn’t be well received either.

Plus she likes the other one better: he _is_ a big, silly, obnoxious bird, and she loves him so damn much.

  
  
_ What to do: _

_1\. Approach with caution and find an opening (literally)_

Lucifer was supposed to meet her at the precinct this morning, but didn’t show. Chloe has tried texting and calling of course, but without success, so before heading to the crime scene of the day, she stops by Lux. The penthouse is eerily quiet when she steps in: she expected the shower running, or maybe noises from the kitchen as he made himself a quick breakfast after realizing he woke up late, but nothing. Is he still asleep, perhaps?

Eventually, she does find him on his bed, but no, he’s not asleep. Or at least she doesn’t think so. It mostly looks like he’s… sulking. One would probably picture something more ominous while imagining an angel brooding: a winged being perched high on a building like superheroes do in the movies, wings tucked close and eyes dark and menacing. Turns out that when an angel is mad, or at least when this one is, he curls into a ball of feathers turned as sharp as knives, pointed outwards to shield him.

An angry porcupine comes to mind, but if Chloe were to say it, she would certainly get yelled at.

As silently as she can, she leaves her bag on the floor at the entrance of the bedroom, takes off her shoes and climbs on the mattress. The feathery cocoon in front of her breathes rhythmically, the wings expanding minutely with every exhale before retreating closer to Lucifer’s body hidden inside.

“Babe?” Chloe calls softly, trying to suppress a laugh but hoping her tenderness still shows. “Are you okay in there?”

“Leave me alone, Detective,” Lucifer’s voice rumbles from within, his wings tightening around him. His tone makes Chloe realize this is basically the angel equivalent of a teenager gluing a “Keep Out” sign to the door and locking himself inside his room. Nothing new for her. She smiles fondly, settling near him against the headboard.

“You never miss work unless you have a good reason. Something must have happened. Come on, let me help you.”

She hears him sigh. She knows he hates refusing her, and it’s a powerful weapon she always tries to use with caution. But in this case, it’s for his own good.

“I had a fight with Amenadiel. He wants to take Charlie to meet our siblings and I told him it’s a terrible idea, but he won’t listen. Watch him undo everything I sacrificed for by basically handing his spawn over to them on a silver platter, the bloody idiot.”

He’s talking about when he left to keep everyone safe, Charlie included. Chloe’s heart aches for him. Deep down she knows that Amenadiel is entitled to a different opinion about their family and that his desire is understandable, but Lucifer’s feelings are also perfectly valid.

“Is Linda on board with it?” she feels the need to ask first, because she won’t allow for her friend to be kept to the sidelines when a similar decision has to be taken, especially knowing that Amenadiel almost _kidnapped_ their infant child that one time before coming to his senses.

“So it seems. Our sister Remiel gave him… guarantees. Reassurances. But what if it’s a trap, mm? I can’t go up there and help him! The fool will be on his own!”

Chloe tries to find something to say, but not seeing his face is starting to bug her. Comforting him is much easier when she can see his expressions, smooth his worries away from his features with her hands on his cheeks or in his hair.

“Hey, could you, uhm… open up for me?” Well, literally. The choice of words is ridiculously fitting.

“Why?”

She rolls her eyes. “What do you mean, why? So I can be there for you.” She reaches out toward the point of a feather, her hand hovering in the air. “I have a feeling prying them open myself is not a smart move, is it?”

The question is meant to make Lucifer panic, just a bit, and it works.

“Don’t- don’t touch them, Detective,” he rushes to say, and as expected, the feathers start losing their sharpness, softening immediately once he senses her vicinity. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He is so predictable when it comes to this, to her. Chloe will never get tired of the heartbreaking tenderness behind it.

“Let me in then,” she doubles down, scooting closer. The scene slowly unfolding in front of her puts a smile on her face: watching the feathers change texture is quite simply a magical, marvellous thing, and the sunlight streaming in from outside makes them glow so bright. It’s… heavenly, because of course it is.

Once they are all flat and smooth, Chloe gently sneaks her hand in, but the wings themselves start to open before she can. Lucifer’s brown eyes appear as he lifts the one covering his face and upper body, the other curled under and around his waist and legs instead.

“Hello, you,” Chloe chuckles, shifting until she’s lying down next to him so he can close the wing around them both this time. It’s getting late, she knows it, but whoever died is… well, dead, and Ella will be fine on her own for a while.

“Hello, Detective,” comes the trademark response, a playful smile on Lucifer’s lips. He’s wearing his silk pyjama pants and nothing more, clearly intent on staying home for the day, but hopefully Chloe will talk him into joining her to distract himself. She cards her fingers through his unruly hair, twirling them around dark, stray curls.

“So, is this an angel thing, a Devil thing, or a Lucifer thing?” she asks, looking up at the white canopy above and around them. It’s warm inside, maybe too much since she’s fully dressed, but it mostly feels like being inside a fort made of sheets and covers and it’s such a pleasant and reassuring sensation. She gets why it can be soothing, to him: a way to hide in his own little world for a while. But it’s _their_ world, when he allows it, and he always, always does, now.

“A mixture of all three, I'd say,” Lucifer replies, drawing her closer to him with an arm around her waist. “Our wings are our weapons, but you wouldn’t need to protect yourself while sleeping in the Silver City. In Hell, on the other hand… there are too many threats. It was the only way I could fall asleep, and it’s been this way for so long that now… doing it makes me feel… safe. It’s stupid, I know.”

“Oh, Lucifer.” Chloe shakes her head, then cups his cheek with her hand. “It’s not stupid at all. To be honest, it’s-”

“Please don’t say cute,” he cuts her off. Oops, busted.

“Sweet? Adorable?”

“That’s basically the same thing.”

“Fair.” She shrugs. “But you are.” Then she kisses him, and he kisses her back, pressing her closer with arm and wing, with everything he is. A little corner of paradise, just for her. Their legs entwine, with feathers sticking out from the gap in between. This is part of her life now and Chloe wouldn’t change it for the world, maybe not even for salvation itself.

When their lips part, Lucifer brushes the tip of his nose against hers and says, “I should have texted you to say I was not coming. I'm sorry about that.”

“You should have, but it’s okay. And if you promise me to make it quick, you can still join me. Come on, it will take your mind off things, or even help you. Or are we ignoring your ability to relate every single case to your personal problems, all of a sudden?”

He snorts. “That _is_ one of my talents, indeed. And one I'm pretty sure was not God-given. But let’s assume it doesn’t work… what do you think I should do with Amenadiel?”

Chloe appreciates him asking for her opinion, but she knows she must thread carefully. Then, a thought strikes her. “You once told me it’s a sin for an angel to break a vow. So, did this Remiel… _swear_ that no one will harm Charlie? I mean, officially?”

Lucifer’s face lights up. “I don’t know, but I could tell him to get her to. That _would_ put my mind at ease. Detective, you’re a genius!”

“I try.” She smiles brightly at him, proud of being able to help. It’s nice not to feel out of her depth for once: that’s why she tries to remember every bit of information he has ever shared about how this… stuff works. About the rules of this impossible world he – well, they – lives in. “Now get up, take a shower and-”

But the rest of the sentence is muffled by a kiss, her broody angel laughing against her lips. Hopefully, the officers at the crime scene will believe her when she’ll blame it on the crazy traffic of LA.

  
  
_2\. Let him take the lead_

Lucifer is sleeping over at the apartment when, one night, a cry from downstairs wakes them both.

“No, no, no, please, please don’t hurt us!” Trixie says in her sleep, but loud enough for them to hear. Startled, Chloe looks at Lucifer next to her, finding her own sadness reflected in his features.

It’s Tiernan's men. Every time. It doesn’t happen often, but it does happen, and it’s enough to twist a knife in Chloe’s chest. Her baby girl dreams of that terrible moment and all she can do is comfort her. If she could, she would erase the memory altogether or carry it in her own mind instead, stealing Trixie’s fear to make it her own.

“The therapist did warn me she’s not completely over it,” she sighs (Linda referred her to a professional after the Malcolm kidnapping, so Trixie has been seeing the same one recently). “I'm going to wake her up and then sleep with her.”

Usually, Lucifer nods and lets her go without saying a word. He feels guilty about it, and struggles to find something to say. But this time, surprisingly, he speaks up.

“Can I… can _I_ go to her?” he asks, his voice small, almost scared. The way he asks her for permission almost makes her want to cry: he’s always so careful not to overstep, but if anything, Chloe only wants him to get _closer_ to Trixie, and lately he has. After the essay her daughter wrote about him, Lucifer has become even more protective over her. He still despises children, but cares very deeply about Trixie: he doesn’t need to say it for Chloe to know it.

“Of course you can.” She smiles, leans in and kisses him on the cheek. Lucifer smiles back, though hesitantly, then leaves the bed. He retrieves the loose T-shirt he lost at some point during the night and puts it back on, a pair of sweatpants already covering his legs. Unusual, but at least when sleeping at her house, he has agreed not to look like a silk-wearing playboy billionaire: it’s just too out of place.

Chloe watches him as he walks out of the bedroom and listens to the sound of his footsteps on the hardwood floor. She hears another voice whispering in the hallway, and Lucifer replying: Maze must have woken up too, and he’s probably telling her he’s going to check on Trixie. What a weird little family they make, but it works, and it’s all that matters.

She tries to settle in under the covers again, but she can’t go back to sleep just like that. After a while, curiosity takes over. She doesn’t think Lucifer will mind, so she decides to go see what he’s up to.

Once behind Trixie’s bedroom door, Chloe pushes it open a fraction to look inside. What greets her is _another_ image that will never, ever leave her mind, because she’ll make sure of it.

Lucifer is sitting against the headboard of Trixie’s bed, squeezed between her and the nightstand. His wings are out, one draping all the way to the floor, the other splayed on the bed with Trixie _on_ it, like a hammock of sorts, or a cradle. Trixie is awake, and so small that she barely occupies half of the feathery surface: the other half hangs over her, effectively holding her in what could be described as a pod.

“Urchin, I told you, nothing bad will ever happen to you!” Lucifer is insisting, before switching to his awful American accent to add, “Not on my watch!”

Trixie giggles, holding Miss Alien to her chest. When she has nightmares, she reverts to behaviors that don’t really suit her age anymore, like sucking on her thumb, but they have been told not to call her out on it, leaving her these small, harmless coping mechanisms to deal with it.

Despite her amusement, though, the girl suddenly turns serious. “But Lucifer, you can’t always be around. What if something bad happens when you’re not there?”

Lucifer arches an eyebrow. “You really believe that? Wasn’t I there to scare that bully away, and to distract Malcolm, too? And I didn’t even have _these_ at the time.” He points at his wings. “Now I can be wherever I want in a heartbeat. And no one can win against the Devil, dear.”

He smirks, avoiding to remind Trixie that he _did_ get killed by Malcolm, and that if Chloe had arrived earlier at the penthouse, Tiernan's men probably would have killed him, too. He’s not invincible, not always at least, but it’s a lie Chloe is thankful for and one he probably embraces, almost willing it to be true.

“You’re right,” Trixie agrees, but looking pensive. “It’s just… I was so scared, you know?”

Chloe glimpses Lucifer flinching, the line of his jaw suddenly sharper as something dangerous flickers in his eyes before it turns to guilt, to helplessness.

“I know. I'm- I'm sorry.”

Trixie fails to catch the deep meaning behind his apology, maybe assuming he’s saying it in general. “I don’t like feeling scared,” she simply continues. “I wanted to be brave like Maze but… I just couldn’t.”

Lucifer’s expression softens. Chloe is pretty sure the one on her face is the same.

“That’s alright, offspring. You still have to become a full-sized human after all.”

Trixie snorts. “I love all these weird things you say. That’s just called _growing up_, silly. You don’t have to use all those… big words.”

“But I like using big words,” Lucifer objects almost petulantly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, I know.” Trixie twists away from him to look up at the wing hanging over her. “So is this what angels do to comfort each other when they have nightmares?”

It’s an innocent question, but one that clearly isn’t easy to answer judging by Lucifer’s intake of breath. Chloe almost steps in to shield him from her daughter’s oblivious curiosity, but reconsiders. This is their moment. She doesn’t have to be there all the time. In fact, it’s better for them to bond on their own for it to be more genuine.

“Angels don’t have nightmares, little one,” Lucifer whispers, before a self-deprecating smile graces his lips. “Well, not in Heaven at least. I just… I thought it might make you feel better, is all.”

Because it makes _him_ feel better, Chloe realizes. Lucifer is comforting Trixie in the only way he knows, the same way he uses on himself, wrapping her in a cocoon of warmth and softness and light.

Trixie beams in that way she reserves only to him, though Chloe is sure he doesn’t even see it. “It does,” her daughter says. “Thank you, Lucifer.”

The two settle in a comfortable bubble of silence Chloe wouldn’t dream of bursting. Trixie lies there, staring and stroking at random feathers with all the pure and innocent wonder of her age, and Lucifer watches her. Then their eyelids start to flutter, the both of them slowly but surely falling asleep, Lucifer’s lifted wing sagging and closing tighter around Trixie’s body until she can’t even be seen anymore.

Chloe leaves them that way and retreats to her bedroom, smiling to herself. In that famous essay, Trixie wrote that she will always try to stop Lucifer from falling, or better, to make his landing soft; and now, it almost feels like Lucifer just did the same in return. It feels right, for this to be their thing.

So next time Trixie will need someone to comfort her in the dead of night, Chloe will be more than happy to step aside and let her fallen angel guard her daughter’s dreams.

  
  
_3\. Make it a family tradition_

It’s not unusual for Chloe to leave Lucifer and Trixie alone together from time to time, mostly to run last-minute errands she forgot about. Trixie is fairly independent at this point, and the two quite simply coexist: when she comes back, Chloe usually finds Trixie doing her homework or talking on the phone with some friend and Lucifer watching TV or arranging ingredients for dinner as he waits for her to get what was missing.

Today she didn’t actually go that far, but took longer than usual: you really can’t say no when your non-demon go-to babysitter asks you to help carry her grocery bags to her house, put things in the fridge and pantry for her _and_ listen to the riveting story of how she met her husband. Or at least, it’s not in Chloe’s nature to say no.

Hours later – there was tea involved, and admittedly delicious pastry on the side – she finally makes it back to the apartment, only to blink several times at what she finds on the carpet on the living room floor.

Lucifer and Trixie are sitting cross-legged on the ground, Trixie in front of Lucifer but giving her back to him. Lucifer’s wings, outstretched through his white shirt, circle around her, and from what Chloe can see (Lucifer’s back blocks the view) her boyfriend is busy doing _something_ with her daughter’s hair.

It’s a reckless idea given the fact that Dan has a copy of the house keys, but she can’t find it in herself to be mad. She approaches them quietly, curious but careful not to startle them. “Hey there,” she greets them. “What are you two up to?”

Trixie perks up and twists her head around toward the sound of her voice. “Look mom, we are grooming each other!”

“Oh, bloody- urchin! I told you not to move!”

“Oops, sorry,” Trixie giggles, dutifully turning back to her previous position. Now closer, Chloe can see over Lucifer’s shoulder and realizes he is indeed braiding Trixie’s hair, and not just into a normal, single braid: it’s something intricate, almost warrior-like, tight near the girl’s forehead and temples before the locks start intertwining in multiple patterns behind her head.

It's a talent that should surprise her but actually doesn’t: the unfolding result looks like something from an episode of _Vikings_, a reminder that Lucifer secretly knows practices and customs from many, many different historical periods. It gives him an otherworldly quality Chloe is starting to get used to, adding a larger-than-life feel to everything he does. It’s almost sacred, the way he manages to fit into their tiny lives so effortlessly without losing the things that make him who he is.

Trixie, on the other hand, is busy brushing a small comb over the expanse of feathers in front of her, effectively smoothing them where they are ruffled or askew, sometimes using her own hand to deal with a particularly stubborn one.

“I see.” Chloe can’t help but card her fingers through Lucifer’s hair once she’s near them, standing over them both. He looks up at her and smiles like she’s the sun, before focusing back on his task. “And _why_ are you grooming each other?”

“I was bored,” Trixie shrugs. “So I asked to see them, but they were so messy! I couldn’t just leave them that way!”

Chloe eyes Lucifer in surprise. “And you let her have her way so easily?”

Lucifer opens his mouth to speak, but Trixie cuts him off, “Yeah, sure, easily. He made me wash my hands _five times_, mom. _And_ use hand-sanitizer.”

“Hey, I don’t know where your grabby little hands have been!”

“Well, I could say the same for you!”

“How dare you-”

“Guys, guys, don’t fight!” Chloe tries to calm them down, but laughing all the while. She stops herself from saying that Trixie has a point: for someone who always complains about sticky fingers, Lucifer does have a tendency to swipe his own into jars of honey, jam, Nutella and peanut butter, so really, he shouldn’t be the one to talk.

“So, uhm, why the braiding though?”

Lucifer is still glaring at Trixie’s head, but he relaxes at the question. “Spawn doesn’t have feathers, now, does she? It was the closest thing I could think of.” Because it’s an angel thing and Trixie isn’t one, Chloe reasons, somewhere between fascination and sadness. “And it’s certainly better than those two ridiculous twin buns if you ask me.”

“Rude!” Trixie scolds him, tugging on a feather for emphasis.

“Ow!”

“Monkey, don’t do that!” Chloe rushes to say, though it’s hard to be stern when they both look so adorable. She watches in silence as the mutual ritual resumes, switching from Trixie’s tiny fingers to Lucifer’s long and expert ones, working her daughter’s hair like a machine weaving threads of fabric together to make a piece of clothing. It’s almost hypnotizing.

Lucifer looks up at her. “Why don’t you join us, Detective? Sit in front of the urchin, let’s see what _she_ is capable of.” Thankfully, Trixie misses the glare in her direction.

And really, how could she say no? Chloe smiles, takes off her shoes and walks around them. The wings part for her like clouds, letting her turn and sit with her back to Trixie. Given Lucifer’s wingspan, at least three other people could probably sit like this and still be completely covered by the feathery limbs once closed.

She notices there are elastic bands and hairpins on the floor. Trixie hands her the comb and reaches up to undo her ponytail before combing her mother’s hair with a brush Lucifer must have previously used on her. Chloe silently takes her place grooming Lucifer’s wings, until a giggle from behind her makes her turn toward the sound.

“What?”

“We look like monkeys cleaning each other,” Trixie points out, which to be honest isn’t that far from the truth. A way for her to live up to her nickname, Chloe supposes.

“What is it with you Decker women and animal comparisons, eh? I'm not a bloody bird, and I most _certainly_ am not a dumb, filthy monkey. I'm the _Devil_.”

“So you keep reminding us,” Chloe mumbles. Is he really failing to notice how Trixie has him wrapped around her finger, or does he just not want to admit it?

Trixie is just about to start working Chloe’s hair into a braid when they all hear the front door opening and closing. Chloe panicks for a moment, but the sound of heavy boots on the floor is unmistakable.

“The hell are you people doing?” comes Maze’s voice. Admittedly, they must look so silly and absurd all sitting in a line on the ground.

“What does it look like we’re doing?” Lucifer quips, not really answering.

Before she can think too much about it, Chloe adds, “Wanna let me have a go at your hair, Maze? Come on, I'm actually pretty good!” Her expertise comes from Barbie dolls and little girls, but still.

She expects a mocking laugh or an outraged reply. Instead, after a few beats, the demon goes, “Ah, what the hell,” and proceeds to stalk around them until Lucifer reluctantly opens his wings to make space for her too.

“This is awesome!” Trixie declares as Maze settles down at the head of their weird little angel-human-demon train.

And Chloe can’t help but agree.


	12. How to... make sense of his mumbling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s hard to translate what your boyfriend mumbles in his sleep when it’s in a language that doesn’t come from Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt idea + suggestions by venividivictorious

As a general rule, Chloe sleeps so soundly that, if it wasn’t for the fact that Lucifer fell asleep in the middle of the afternoon, she’s sure she wouldn’t have noticed.

It’s subtle, at first. A low, murmured, unintelligible stream of sounds, apparently similar to what most people mumble while wandering through the land of dreams. Nonsense, in conclusion.

But then, slowly, the sounds start to take a definite shape, and it’s impossible to ignore the fact that they are _clearly_ words. Sentences. _Stuff_.

Chloe pauses the movie they were watching on one of the couches of the penthouse to try and pay more attention. Lucifer seems more tired overall, since his last trip to regularly check how things are going in Hell; so initially, she had just planned to ignore him and let him have his rest. Which is still the plan, of course, but now she’s too curious to keep watching TV.

Lucifer’s head used to be on her shoulder, but once he dozed off, she gently moved it to her lap to card her fingers through his hair, freeing it from the restraining product he uses. His long body – Jesus, how long _are_ his legs – is sprawled on the couch all the way to the opposite armrest, turned so that the Devil is lying on his side, cheek pressed against her thighs. He has his favorite black suit on, but lost the jacket and took off his shoes, and the silly detail of actually seeing his socked feet makes her feel giddy and ridiculous at her own giddiness.

Because he feels so hers, in these moments, maybe even more than between the sheets, more than when they’re as naked as they can be in front of each other. Because all of his walls are down, when he sleeps. It would be naïve to think she’s done tearing them down: she isn’t, she probably never will be. After all, he lived for thousands of years before she came along. It’s safe to say that her whole lifespan won’t even be enough, and that’s why she cherishes this.

_This_, though, this mumbling… in a way, it’s another wall. A new barrier Chloe didn’t know was there, or maybe one that only recently came into existence, who knows. Now surrounded by silence, she turns her head to the side to get her ear closer to his mouth, fingers scratching at his scalp out of habit. What she hears sounds… harsh, rough, guttural, coming from somewhere deep within his chest and throat. German, maybe?

Oh no, now she’s thinking about that picture of him in Nazi Germany and wondering if he’s having some sort of flashback. She’d rather forget about that entirely, but it’s too late. After all, now she knows that he speaks every language, that it wasn’t just talk to try and impress her. Could it be?

It’s a shame Chloe sucks at languages instead. Only a bit of Spanish for her, picked up from family dinners and gatherings at the Espinoza household. But there must be a way to figure it out, right? If there’s one thing being in a relationship with Lucifer has taught her, it’s that she is a _very_ resourceful woman. Granted, she was even before, but it takes that tiny bit of extra effort to date the Devil.

It’s a good thing the reward makes it all worth it.

  
  
_ What to do: _

_1\. Use the tools at your immediate disposal_

Chloe looks around, unable – and honestly unwilling – to disturb Lucifer from his position. Right next to her on the armrest, she sees her phone, locked but turned on (as _always_, because she is a detective and has a young daughter and _No, Lucifer, I won't agree to a week on a private island without phone reception with you, especially not fully naked_).

Doing her best not to move too much, she reaches out and picks up the device, then unlocks it with one hand. Given how unclear and jammed together Lucifer’s words seem to be, it’s honestly a long shot, but there is no harm in trying. So she clicks on the app store icon and types “record and translate” into the search bar.

Many options appear, all looking very similar. She decides to download the one with the best rating, and when it’s done, she opens the app to use it.

Feeling a bit stupid, but still as determined as ever, Chloe brings her phone closer to Lucifer’s moving lips and presses the microphone icon that lets you record an audio file to immediately give you an English translation of it. She keeps her thumb on it for roughly ten seconds, then lifts it from the screen and waits for the program to process the information.

_Sorry, I don’t understand you!_ announces a cartoonish, glass-wearing worm looking at her with a huge question mark on top of its round head.

_Well, how very helpful of you_, Chloe sulks internally, though to be fair, she knew it couldn’t be this easy. These apps probably need the speaker to talk in a very deliberate way, with clear, distinguishable pauses. But Lucifer, obviously unaware, smacks his lips every now and then or hums or groans, and there is no telling how accurately he’s speaking… whatever language he’s speaking.

Still, she decides to give it another try, this time by typing words in herself. If she manages to catch even just one, at least she will figure out the language, if not the whole content and meaning of his mumbling. So once again, she does her absolute best to listen to him, trying to isolate at least one word out of the rushed, rumbling, continuous string she’s hearing.

Eventually, she settles on two possible terms: _haal_ and _bok_. Yet when she types them in, the confused worm greets her once again, prompting a groan of frustration out of her. This time she was actually confident! Is it the spelling? Is she supposed to add those weird symbols some languages use, otherwise the program won’t recognize it? How can she do that when she doesn’t know what it is in the first place?

She could ask him, of course; once he wakes up, that is. But just like her whole emoji interpretation mission… where would be the fun in that? And anyway, maybe he is saying something he wouldn’t want to talk about. This suddenly makes Chloe feel like she’s snooping where she isn’t supposed to, almost as if she was rummaging around in his sock drawer.

Which, well… been there, done that (they are many, they are color-sorted, and she absolutely did not use a pair of them as hand puppets in her birthday drunken haze to simulate a conversation between them in which she yelled at him for disappearing off to Vegas until Linda took pity on her and snatched them- okay, fine, she totally did).

So, you know what? Maybe it’s better to leave it alone this time. As long as Lucifer doesn’t seem particularly affected by what he’s saying, Chloe can easily settle for the intimacy of stroking his hair and brushing her fingers over his cheek and arm. As long as he seems peaceful, no matter how harsh the mumbled words, she can assume he’s having a dream, not a nightmare, and let him be.

  
  
_2\. Ask him directly (yeah, that didn’t last long)_

This time, she can’t let him be.

This time, it’s clear he’s not having a good dream.

This time, while the words are just as gruff and gravelly as before, his demeanor is not peaceful.

Lucifer is tossing and turning in his sleep, the copper-colored sheets of his bed twisting around his legs in the process. Chloe wakes up to a particularly angry stream of unknown words, almost shouted in the darkness and stillness of the night. The curtains are pulled closed over the glass windows so that the early sun won’t wake them, letting them enjoy their planned lazy Sunday while Trixie is with Dan, but once Chloe opens her eyes she realizes they are not really in the dark anymore.

In fact, Lucifer’s angel wings are out, their otherworldly glow acting like a soft bed lamp. One that can kill you, if you’re not careful. Just like when she found him hiding in a cocoon of sharp and puffed up feathers, the wings she is seeing right now are weapons: instruments of self-protection against outside threats. Threats he must be dreaming of facing, unaware of his body’s reaction in real life.

“_Jy sal doen soos ek sê! Ek is moeg om u klagtes te hoor!_”

Chloe sits up immediately, ducks under the nearest wing cutting the air above her, and scoots down the mattress until she’s crouching in the far corner, eyeing them carefully. She knows Lucifer would never intentionally hurt her with them, and most of all, she can’t let it happen precisely because of how guilty he would feel.

“Lucifer! Lucifer, wake up!” she calls him, ducking down again as knife-like feathers sweep over her head. But it’s useless, and the mumbling, which is now way more than that, continues to spill out of his lips. When Lucifer suddenly turns on his back, a wave of renewed panic hits her: in her presence, can he actually hurt _himself_?

She needs to put an end to this, and quick. Luckily, she is the Devil’s weakness in more ways than one.

Mindful of his kicking, Chloe swiftly reaches the end of the mattress on his side and quite simply starts tickling him under his soles mercilessly, her fingertips tapping and scratching in a way she knows he won’t be able to ignore. They have had their share of tickle fights, and while her sides are her soft spot, Lucifer turns into a giggling mess if you manage to get a hold of his feet.

On cue, her boyfriend yelps and finally jerks awake, squirming out of her reach and bending his legs toward his body reflexively. He sits up against the headboard, panting and wild but visibly relaxing more and more by the second. His feathers slowly droop and flatten, turning smooth and soft on the sheets: from what Chloe can see, he did not cut himself with them, which is a relief.

As he looks down at his spread wings, Lucifer must be realizing what just happened, because his expression slowly changes from confusion to worry.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“You didn’t,” Chloe reassures him quickly before he jumps to conclusions as usual, but he still looks troubled and on edge. She decides she can finally get closer now that he’s awake and in control of his movements, so that’s what she does. Lucifer welcomes her in his arms with ease, as if it’s second nature for him – at this point it is, and Chloe can’t help but smile to herself at the idea of a Detective-shaped dent in his feathers while she settles on top of his outstretched wing.

The angelic limb curls and tightens around her, pressing her closer to its owner. She ends up with her face tucked under Lucifer’s chin, one of her hands drawing abstract patterns on his chest to soothe his breathing as their legs entwine.

“You were talking in your sleep,” she tells him, looking up at his face in the soft glow provided by his feathers. “What were you saying?”

Lucifer skims one hand up and down her clothed back, his eyes shining in the semi-darkness. “I don’t know,” he replies with a self-deprecating smile. “I don’t remember.”

“Oh.” Well, makes sense. Usually, it’s other people who inform you of the weird things they hear you say while you dream. “But… what language is it?”

Lucifer frowns. “What do you mean? It wasn’t English?”

“It definitely wasn’t. It was something... strange.”

“I see. Something that sounded more or less like this, by any chance?” And then he proceeds to speak in yet _another_ language, this time musical, elegant, made of smooth and lyrical sounds. Chloe gapes at him, a bit awestruck. His British accent is as sexy as they come, but this… he has never sounded more _other_ than this, more foreign.

“Uhm, no?”

“Right.” For some reason, he looks a bit sad. “Not Enochian then.”

She blinks. “Which is…”

“The language of angels,” Lucifer ends her sentence for her, his smile now wistful. “The language of Heaven.”

Oh. She gets it now. Instinctively, her arm moves to his hips to hug him tighter, and her lips are drawn to his collarbone to press a delicate kiss there.

“I just told you that I love you, by the way,” Lucifer whispers after a brief pause. Chloe’s heart skips a beat, but when she looks up at him again, she can’t help but tease him a little – though of course she knows he does not lie, and that he certainly wouldn’t about something like this.

“Or so you say,” she jokes, one eyebrow raised skeptically. “For all I know, you could have told me that I'm boring or that my breath stinks or that, I don’t know, you hate my new haircut or something.”

“What, the fringe? Darling, you look lovely.”

She raises herself up on one elbow, mouth open in a mockery of outrage. “You’re not going to object to the rest of that sentence?”

Lucifer laughs, tipping his head back for a moment, eyes adorably crinkled at the corners. “Can I answer in Enochian again?”

Chloe slaps his chest. “No!”

“Fine, fine! Detective, you are the most interesting person I know, and your breath is _always_ heavenly.”

Always, really? Ah, the flattering little bastard.

“That’s better.” She lies down on his chest again, her fingers tapping on his skin. “And I love you, too. I wish I could say it in your language. Will you teach me?”

That sounded kind of long and… complicated, but Chloe has good memory.

Lucifer’s fingers scratching at her scalp make her tilt her head up, her heart melting at the fondness in his gaze. “You will never be able to speak it, Detective,” he smiles at her, somewhere between sad and tender, maybe endeared at the fact that she asked. “It’s designed so that only angels can master it. Sounds would simply… not come out of your mouth.”

“Oh.” Well, there goes her idea. “You will have to settle for my lame Spanish then.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “_Te amo_, Lucifer.”

His hand moves from her hair to her cheek, cupping her face from the side. “_Je t'aime_, Detective. _Ich liebe dich. Main tumse pyaar karta hoon. Ik hou van jou. Wǒ ài nǐ. Aishiteru wa. Ndiyakuth-_”

“Oh, damn you, show-off!” Chloe chastises him, though she’s mostly upset at how easily he can make her blush. She’s pushing forthy, she can’t _blush_. Ugh, this man.

Lucifer grins like the Cheshire cat. He’s absolutely ridiculous, but it’s perfect because most of the time she is, too.

“Message received then, Detective?” he asks, infuriatingly yet also endearingly full of himself. “’Cause I could go on for, well… the whole night, really.” He realizes his own innuendo and smirks. “But you know that already.”

Chloe shakes her head lightly. “Message received, loud and clear.” She leans in to kiss his lips softly, but just as she’s pulling back, Lucifer chases after her, keeping her close with one hand in her hair. They groan together at the first brush of their tongues against one another, their bodies naturally turning toward each other until Chloe is fully on top of Lucifer, both of his wings cocooning her now.

Their hips meet in a practiced dance, lips and fingers start to wander, but wasn’t there… something… she needed to ask him?

“So,” she whispers between kisses, “what… language… was it… then?”

Lucifer pulls back, his lips already kiss-swollen and shiny, looking positively annoyed by the interruption. “If it wasn’t Enochian, it must have been Lilim, the language of Hell,” he says almost matter-of-factly, before capturing her lips in another heated kiss. So the nightmare was about Hell, and this whole mumbling started ever since he came back from his last visit, so something bad must have happened while he-

_Aaand_ his hand is down her pants, damnit. How is Chloe supposed to think like this?

Fine, they will discuss it tomorrow. It’s a sacrifice she’s willing to make. Relationships are all about compromises, right?

  
  
_3\. Get yourself an interpreter_

In the end, there wasn’t much to discuss given that Lucifer didn’t know what he actually said in his sleep; but he did reveal that some demons proved particularly challenging this time around – self-governing is a tricky thing – and that he had to “show them” in ways he isn’t comfortable recounting to her. So all Chloe could do was make sure he had properly informed Linda, which he had.

Walls, walls, walls, like she said, but some can’t just be smashed through with a wrecking ball: you'll just end up finding a higher one on the other side of the rubble. Some have to be climbed carefully, assessing every step and nook you want to use to keep going upward unless you want to fall or be forced to retreat further down.

Luckily Linda is a good climber by now, and with a bit of patience from everyone involved, the nightmares slowly become less frequent and violent. The mumbling itself doesn’t go away, but at least it’s what it used to be in the beginning: Lucifer’s subconscious whispering things into the void without any apparent discomfort from him.

Lilim, he said. The language of Hell, and thinking about it, probably the same one he used do give commands to Cerberus when the hellhound first showed up at the penthouse. No wonder the translation app didn’t recognize it.

The first time it happens outside of his or her house, they’re in Chloe’s car. This means that even if she wanted, Chloe has no way to record what he’s saying to later ask Maze because she is a responsible driver and Trixie is in the backseat, too, as an incentive. The Detective and the Devil just survived a long, exhausting nightly stake-out that proved quite useless, but before they could go home, Chloe had to pick up Trixie from a sleepover when her friend’s mom called and hastily told her the family had an emergency and had to leave the house immediately.

It’s not like Chloe isn’t tired, but with an ungodly amount of caffeine in her system, she has learned how to function and complete basic tasks like reaching home safely before collapsing. Lucifer, on the other hand, can be a champion at not sleeping for days if he _wants_ to; but when there is no reason for it, you flip a switch and he’s basically dead to the world. An alien invasion could be happening right now, for all he knows, as he snores with his cheek comically pressed against the window.

Trixie seems quite sleepy, too, looking adorable with her spaceship-patterned pyjamas still on (how appropriate) and her hair all over the place. Still, she’s awake enough to explain to Chloe what exactly went down at the house, and in disturbingly vivid detail.

“..so apparently Jessica fell from the top bunk bed, because next thing I know, _sbam_ and she’s flat on the floor, face down! There was blood _everywhere_, mom! I felt so bad for her, but for real, it was like a _Saw_ movie!”

Chloe shivers on the driver’s seat. “Remind me to have a chat with Maze about what movies she’s allowed to watch with you, monkey,” she says through gritted teeth, though of course she will have to remind _herself_, knowing Trixie and her sneaky ways.

As expected, her daughter waves her off. “Yeah, yeah. So anyways, Jessica lifts her head from the floor, and her nose looks like a-”

“_Waarom kan ek nie my skoonmaak-uitrusting vind nie?_”

Trixie stops talking to turn toward where Lucifer is sleeping. Chloe expects her to ask something along the lines of “What the hell was that?”, but instead, the girl puts a hand over her mouth and _giggles_.

“Uhm, Trix, why are you… laughing?”

Trixie moves her hand away and shifts closer to the front of the car, now perched between the two seats. “Because I know what he said, mom!” she goes, smiling broadly.

“You- wait, what?” Her daughter speaks _Hellish_ now? How will that look on a resume? _High proficiency in the language of the Underworld?_

“M-m! Maze taught me!” Trixie beams proudly. “Well, she is _still_ teaching me, actually. Lilim is hard, you know? As much as I try, I'm no demon.”

Chloe frowns. It’s stupid, but she actually didn’t put two and two together before: that “language of Hell” automatically means _demonic_ language. She gulps.

“Monkey, you can’t, you know… summon demons or do anything weird while speaking it, right?” she asks, feeling silly but mostly panicky at the idea of some creepy ritual inadvertently taking place in her apartment.

Thankfully, Trixie laughs. “What? No! It’s just a way to communicate, dummy! Like, _Ek voel nie lus om jou dood te maak nie_. There! I just said that I don’t feel like killing you, which means I like you!”

“How lovely.” Chloe’s eyes are wide as she looks straight ahead. That sounded like her daughter just ingested a heavy metal singer or like she was, well, possessed. Nope, better not to put it on the resume at all.

“So, do you want to know what he said?”

Oh, right. “Sure!”

Trixie stifles another laugh. “He said, _Why can’t I find my cleaning maid outfit?_”

Chloe’s laughter sneaks up on her so abruptly that Lucifer jerks awake on the passenger seat, one hand flat against his chest to calm his probably frantic heart.

“What- what’s going on?” His head moves left and right between Chloe and Trixie. “Why are you laughing?”

It’s a good thing Chloe has to focus on the road, or she’d be dead on the floor by now, clutching at her belly. “No reason,” she manages to choke out, brushing away tears of mirth from the corners of her eyes.

Lucifer scowls. “_Something_ tells me it’s a joke at my expense, and I don’t like it.” He shifts on the seat, seemingly considering something, then turns toward Trixie with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Luckily for me, I do have a way to get the truth out of _most_ people.”

Chloe gasps. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Urchin? Yes, you over there. Look at me, offspring, there you go. So tell me… what is this secret you desire to hide from-”

“Monkey, quick, close your eyes!”

“Oh, _bollocks_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the Lilim in the chapter is Afrikaans, so I apologize for any mistakes to whoever speaks it, but I could only use Google Translate as a resource! In order, this is what Lucifer says before Trixie translates:
> 
> Part 1: Chloe recognizes the words “fetch” and “goat” (😂)  
Part 2: “You will do as I say! I am tired of hearing your complaints!” + “I love you” in French, German, Hindi, Dutch, Chinese, Japanese and Xhosa (again, sorry for possible inaccuracies)
> 
> I'm gonna take this opportunity to thank all the people reading this fic because it recently went past 10k hits, which is a first for me! So, thank you ❤ stay safe and healthy!


	13. How to... help him bond with his nephew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s hard for your boyfriend to be a good babysitter when he despises children on a chemical level.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring suggestions by the lovely members of my Discord server, and fulfilling the #PromptsForSmiles request “Lucifer, Trixie and Ella at the zoo”.
> 
> This chapter was also a collaboration with the lovely artist kenobrea, who did all the vignettes you'll see in it (and came up with the puns for Trixie and Charlie's clothes). Thank you so much for lending your time and talent to this!
> 
> Boy, this one’s long. Hope you enjoy it, folks!

“This is unacceptable!” Lucifer thunders as he paces back and forth across Chloe’s living room. “No, it’s _unfathomable_! Bloody disrespectful is what it is!” He rakes a hand through his hair, but it gets stuck in the thick product and he huffs in annoyance, basically shaking it out of it. “But it shouldn’t surprise me, should it? I’m the Devil after all, always bound to be degraded, demeaned, vilified! Tasked with the cruelest of jobs, with taking care of the most repulsive aspects of humanity! After all these years, all these _eons_, some things just never change!”  
  
Chloe eyes him from the couch, her eyebrow permanently arched in disbelief ever since he rushed in through the door and started rambling.  
  
“And for how long do they want you to babysit Charlie?”  
  
“A whole weekend! Three days!” His voice is so high-pitched that she’s starting to fear for her glass windows. “Might as well be three bloody _centuries_, Detective!”  
  
She rolls her eyes. This man ruled _Hell_, she tries to remind herself. It’s really hard to picture it, sometimes.  
  
“What about Maze?” she asks, trying to help him find a way out. “I thought she liked spending time with him. Or they could, you know, hire a babysitter?”  
  
Lucifer’s expression softens before he replies, and Chloe immediately finds out why.  
  
“The lovely Doctor got a bit paranoid, you see, after that whole angelnapping debacle. Said she would feel safer if her spawn were to be guarded by people she knows, preferably gifted with supernatural strength. But Maze will be out of State this weekend.” Suddenly, his face scrunches up in clear distaste. “Bounty-hunting in the _Midwest_. I swear, that demon always manages to find perfectly decent replicas of Hell, minus the screaming. You know cow tipping is a recurring torture method? Demons love watching people getting stuck under those poor things.”  
  
How can it be, that even after all this time and the things she knows, he always manages to leave her dumbfounded?  
  
“I, uh… I'm not even sure that’s a real thing, you know?” Are they seriously having this conversation? Yes, apparently they are. “I think it’s an urban legend, mostly. I read somewhere that you can’t actually do that.”  
  
He shrugs and waves a hand dismissively. “What can I say, the human mind is just an inventive realm of infinite possibilities, Detective. But back to _me_ now. How do I get out of this?” A lightbulb almost appears on top of his head, that’s how excited he suddenly looks. “Hey, I know how! _You_ can fill in for me! Even if I say yes to them, I don’t need to specify in what capacity, so I could just-”  
  
“If you’re suggesting that I fill in for you because I’m a woman, Lucifer, this conversation won’t go very well for you,” Chloe cuts him off with a glare, but thankfully, Lucifer looks appalled that she would think that.  
  
“What? No! But you do know how to tend to the needs of a baby, don’t you, Detective? Or did the urchin just pop out of there fully formed, mm?” He grimaces. “Oh dear, what a dreadful image that is.”  
  
Yeah, one could say that. “I assure you it hurt like hell just the same, but thanks for the nightmares, babe.” He is exhausting her already, and they _still_ have to go to work for the day, but Chloe decides to take pity on him.  
  
“Tell you what… we'll do it together. I'm happy to give you a hand if it means leaving Linda and Amenadiel a bit of free time for themselves. God- I mean, _I_ know how much Linda could use a spa treatment and, well… I think those two are getting cozy again. It’s kinda sweet.”  
  
Lucifer’s eyes widen, alarmed. “Oh, no. No, no, no, no. They’re going to make a new one, aren’t they? Bloody hell, I just can’t catch a break!”  
  
Chloe snorts. Sure, Linda just can’t _wait_ to give birth to another flying baby, no doubt.  
  
“Lucifer, don’t be ridiculous,” she chides softly. “Besides, you told me it happened because Amenadiel was, uhm, basically human at the time? Fallen?” She still struggles to wrap her head around it sometimes.  
  
“That’s what we think, yes, but we can’t be sure,” Lucifer clarifies – good thing they’re both big on protection then. “And even if that was the case, who knows what self-actualization is truly capable of when it comes to that dullard. I bet he feels all soft and vulnerable every time a woman so much as offers him a wank.”  
  
Chloe wrinkles her nose. “Lucifer, gross.”  
  
Of course, he ignores her to switch back to his regular programming, which at this rate will be giving her a massive headache before she’s even had her morning coffee.  
  
“Detective, don’t you get it? I came to LA to be my own man away from my celestial family, not to be surrounded by an army of bloody Nephilim! How is this fair to _me_? I was here first!”  
  
Chloe stands up from the couch and cups his face, forcing him to look her in the eye. “Lucifer, I promise you, Linda has _no_ intention of getting pregnant in the near future, okay?” What a weird reassurance to have to give, but hey, this is her life. “And it won’t be as bad as you think, babysitting. Trixie adores Charlie, too, so she’ll be happy to help as well.”  
  
Lucifer seems to relax at her words, but then his brow furrows with something akin to suspicion. He takes her hands and guides them away from his face, puzzling her.  
  
“Hold on. I know what’s happening here.” He seems _extremely_ sure he does, which is never a good sign. “You and the Doctor teamed up against me, didn’t you? Detective, are you… are you trying to test my _parenting_ skills, by any chance? To groom me just in case we…?”  
  
He doesn’t finish the sentence, but he doesn’t need to. Chloe gapes at him for a moment before her trademark demented-witch-on-crack laughter bubbles out of her.  
  
“You- you think I want to have a _baby_ with you, Lucifer? Are you serious?”  
  
She starts to feel bad when his expression changes, shifting from horror to surprise to offense. He crosses his arms over his chest and _pouts_, proving, if anything, that since he is a child himself she really doesn’t need a third one.  
  
“Well, that’s not a flattering reaction, now, is it?” he sulks, adorably put out.  
  
“Why should it be? _You_ don’t want children to begin with!” Chloe tries to reason with him. She frowns. “Wait, do you?”  
  
Lucifer raises an eyebrow. “I would rather go back to 14th century Europe during the Plague, Detective, and let me tell you, those were _not_ particularly sexy times.”  
  
How did they skip from cow tipping to pestilence? This is insane. Best to put a stop to the madness and calm down her ridiculous boyfriend before he gives himself a stroke, which could be very likely with her near.  
  
“Well, good thing we’re on the same page, then.” Chloe takes his hands once again, leans in and kisses him, smiling when she feels _his_ smile stretch under her lips. “Now let me get ready, and stop worrying about the weekend. It will be fun!”  
  
Even as she walks away, she doesn’t miss the glimmer of Lucifer’s flask in the morning sunlight as he fishes it out of his jacket and takes a sip of liquid courage. The Devil, Satan, Beelzebub, scared of a teeny tiny half-angel baby.  
  
Oh, it will be _so_ much fun.

  
_What to do:_  
  
_1\. Do not mess with his daily routine_  
  
Linda and Amenadiel drop Charlie at Chloe’s place on Friday morning, together with a baby carrier, a baby car seat and a bag with clothes and basic supplies. They all agreed the penthouse is not exactly childproof, and Lucifer was more than happy to stay the weekend if it meant saving his apartment from sticky, grubby little hands.  
  
“Uncle Luci!” the toddler claps excitedly the moment he spots the Devil, running to him to pull at the fabric of his pants – because _of course_, just like Trixie and despite Lucifer’s best efforts, the child finds him absolutely _delightful_. “Up, uncle Luci, up!”  
  
“Ugh,” Lucifer recoils, trying to get away. “Still makes me feel old, by the way.” He looks around in search of something to distract Charlie with, and wow, this is really taking Chloe back. How did Trixie grow up so fast?  
  
In the absence of a better option, Lucifer ends up waving his own pocket square down in front of his nephew’s face.  
  
“Here you go, child, do you like this?”  
  
“Yes!” Charlie replies, trying to grab the red piece of cloth, Lucifer’s favorite note of color for when he wears a white shirt and black suit.  
  
“Lovely. Off you pop then, fetch away.” He lets go of the handkerchief, but being too light, the thing flutters pitifully in the air and touches the floor not too far away from where it was thrown. Chloe, Linda and Amenadiel laugh from the door as Charlie retrieves it way sooner than Lucifer would have liked and returns it to its owner, once again demanding to be picked up.  
  
With a roll of his eyes, Lucifer does, but keeping Charlie at arm's length as if he was a ticking bomb. Honestly, Chloe isn’t sure this is exactly a good idea, but the mother in her feels for Linda’s concerns. The nagging paranoia of some celestial possibly taking advantage of Amenadiel’s absence to snatch Charlie away is understandable: some members of his heavenly family still disagree with his living on Earth, and despite Lucifer’s regular supervision, you never know if or when a dissatisfied demon might act out.  
  
With Maze out of town, Lucifer is without a doubt the best deterrent there is. He might be repulsed by children, but he would kill for Trixie and Charlie to be safe.  
  
“Okay!” the therapist claps her hands together, clearly excited to get going. “You guys have our numbers, of course, and all of Charlie’s favorite stuffed toys are in the bag. Maze finally managed to teach Cerberus to keep his two extra heads hidden and the fire-breathing to a minimum, so a neighbor will take care of feeding him.” Sometimes Chloe forgets they actually gifted Linda a hellhound, but reality always finds a way to remind her.  
  
“Oh, and one last thing before we go! Just be careful where you take him, and don’t let him out of your sight for too long. The wings come out when he gets fussy or upset, and thanks to _someone_,” she glares at Amenadiel, “his flying skills have improved considerably.”  
  
Chloe’s eyes widen. “Wait, what?”  
  
“Doctor, is this about that hole I punched into your wall that one time? I mean, it has to be punishment for _something_! Come now, I even payed for the repairs!”  
  
Linda chuckles. “No, Lucifer, that’s not-”  
  
“Sorry guys, but we must be on our way now!” Amenadiel interrupts her, already leading her out by the elbow. Judging by his panicked expression, he’s scared Lucifer might change his mind at any moment if they keep talking. “Thank you, Chloe, and thank you, brother!”  
  
“You owe me one, you feathered dic- uhm, _prick_! And this time, I'll ask you for something way bigger than permanent retirement!”  
  
But Amenadiel is already off, with a smiling Linda bouncing and waving back as she gets dragged to the car parked outside. Okay, those two are _definitely_ going to have sex this weekend.  
  
Chloe closes the door and turns to look at the two celestials left in the room. “And so it begins,” she declares ominously, though she’s mostly amused by the turn of events. For now.  
  
Lucifer lowers Charlie to the floor and watches, unimpressed, as he wanders away to explore the unfamiliar environment, wearing one of the hilarious sweaters Ella gifted him for his second birthday (_Well, HALO there!_). Chloe switches on her mom brain and keeps an eye out for any dangerous object or sharp corner in the room as his tiny feet carry him around.  
  
Aw, he really is a cute baby, isn’t he? It almost makes her want to- no, wait, Chloe, _no_. Oh _hell_ no.  
  
“Okay, so,” she addresses Lucifer, “I need to drop Trixie to school and take care of some paperwork at the station, but I'll be back by lunch. Will you be alright here by yourself until then?”  
  
Lucifer pales, his mouth opening in shock. “Wait a second, this bloody nightmare has barely started, and you’re already leaving me alone to deal with it? Some help you are, Detective! I feel so deceived.” Before she can even reply, he continues, “But anyway, no, I won’t be, because I'm most _certainly_ not staying here doing nothing! I won’t let this ruin my precious routine in any way, let me tell you. I have arrangements to make at Lux for tonight’s bachelorette party, so that’s what I'll do.”  
  
Chloe watches him in stunned silence as he unceremoniously grabs the baby carrier, the seat and the bag, throwing the strap over his shoulder. “Are you coming, little mutant?” he calls out, as if Charlie was a personal assistant or something.  
  
“Are you seriously planning to keep him with you at Lux for the day?” Chloe asks in disbelief as Charlie, bless his heart, drops the set of keys he was jiggling back into their bowl and reaches Lucifer with his adorably bouncy little steps.  
  
“Yes, I am,” Lucifer declares, chin high and defiant. “I will act exactly as I would any other day. _This_…” – he points at his nephew – “..won’t change _anything_.”  
  
_Right, good luck with that_, Chloe thinks to herself. That’s exactly what any future parent says before having their life thrown into a metaphorical washing machine like a pair of dirty socks that will inevitably come out smaller or torn or different in color.  
  
Still, she decides to let him have his way, precisely so he will see how wrong he is. At the same time, though, she can’t let him out like this, clearly struggling with all the stuff he’s trying to carry while completely ignoring the child he’s supposed to keep an eye on. She opens the door for him and takes the carrier and seat from his grip, leaving him only the bag.  
  
“Hold his hand to the car, if you don’t want to pick him up,” she tells him as they step onto the curb.  
  
“Right,” Lucifer mumbles, hastily complying. “I was about to, of course.”  
  
“Of course.” Chloe smiles at him from the side. She knows he means well, but doubts start creeping in. It’s okay for him not to be good at this, and it’s more than okay for him not to want to be, as well. But since he has to, at least for the time being, is it responsible to leave him alone?  
  
Then again, the boy’s parents asked _him_, and one of them is his own brother. She decides that since they trust him, she will, too.  
  
Once she's done helping him, the sight of a very grumpy Lucifer sitting in his Corvette with a beaming toddler strapped in next to him on the passenger seat is quite simply hilarious. Chloe doesn’t try to hide it as she steps back to fully take it in.  
  
“And to think this used to be a sex-magnet,” Lucifer sulks, stroking the wheel of his car affectionately. “Look at me now, Detective. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”  
  
God, the Devil is such a drama queen. It’s a good thing she’s so crazy about him.  
  
“Why, were you planning on _using_ that magnet, by any chance?” she accuses him playfully, but exploiting the full force of her most serious Detective face (not as effective as his devilish one, but it’s all she has, and she makes do).  
  
“Of course not!” he huffs, almost offended. “Still, I'd like to preserve my reputation, that’s all.”  
  
Yes, let it never be said that the Prince of Darkness has gone soft. The horror.  
  
But instead of saying that, Chloe simply steps closer, leans over the car door and kisses him on the cheek, quite unexpectedly it seems. He _blushes_, as ridiculously smitten as ever – oh, he has gone _so_ soft and he knows it: from marble to butter, from hard stone to the fluffiness of a cloud, but she will never hold it against him.  
  
“Meet me at Lux for lunch, love?” he asks her, his good mood restored despite the little monster sitting next to him. Chloe tells him yes, kisses him fully on the lips and sends him on his way, but only after obtaining the promise that he won’t drive like a madman. Charlie laughs and claps at the roar of the Corvette as it rumbles to life and speeds away, and Chloe thinks that, somehow, they _will_ manage to survive this weekend. All in one piece, hopefully.  
  
By the time lunch rolls around, the fact that Lucifer hasn’t called her once feels like a welcome reassurance: things can’t be going so bad, can they? So Chloe walks into Lux with a smile on her face, which only widens when she notices boxes from her favorite Chinese place already set up on the table closest to the entrance.  
  
Lucifer is instead in the farthest corner of the room, his back to her, busy giving instructions to several men on ladders seemingly installing a… spaceship hanging from the ceiling? What’s up with brides these days? Just cram a bunch of strippers in a bus and you’re set. Also helps with having life-changing realizations that might save you from marrying immortal murderers. Really, you should try it.  
  
Chloe starts walking toward Lucifer, but stops in her tracks when he turns around and spots her, beaming. Guess she didn’t notice the harness when she could only see his back, not at all helped by the dim lights of the club and the fact that it’s the same color as his suit, but there is no ignoring the baby strapped to his front as he _sips from a tumbler of scotch_ while surrounded by cables and tools and heavy machinery sending sparks everyw- wait, does that thing actually turn _on_?  
  
“Lucifer,” she smiles tightly in greeting, eyes probably a bit manic, “what- what are you doing?”  
  
He reaches her in a few elegant strides, completely unfazed by the added weight, and kisses her. Charlie makes a grabbing motion at his glass, but Lucifer simply moves it out of his reach and takes another sip.  
  
“Our lovely soon-to-be bride is into astronauts, apparently.” He gestures widely at the expanse of the club, which now has pictures of space on the walls and decorations in the shape of suns, moons, planets and comets. “A bit unusual for a fantasy, but you know I don’t judge.”  
  
“Yeah, no, I mean, I thought you meant you had to take care of arrangements as in, I don’t know, payment? Food and drinks, guest list? This is like an active construction site, it’s no place for a baby!”  
  
“Nonsense!” Lucifer starts making his way to the bar, so she follows him until they’re both sitting on stools. He fetches a bottle from behind the counter and refills his glass as Charlie stares in wonder at a giant gold-colored paper star hanging right above their heads.  
  
“Star!” he announces, pointing at it with his index finger. “So pretty!”  
  
“There, see? He’s having the time of his life.” Lucifer rolls his eyes. “Though his tendency to just point out the obvious is starting to unnerve me, to be quite honest.”  
  
“I wanna touch the star, uncle Luci!” Charlie begins to squirm in the carrier. “Please, please, please!”  
  
“Oh, no.” Even without any expertise in parenting angels, Chloe _so_ knows what is about to happen.  
  
“Right, okay, if you just give me a moment-”  
  
“No, _now_!” And that is all the warning Charlie gives them before sprouting a pair of small grey wings and leaping out of the carrier and into the air.

  
  
“What the f-” Lucifer grabs him by the back of his sweater and manages to hide him behind the counter before any of the workers around them can see. Charlie ends up hanging from his grip on the other side, crying and kicking and flapping his little wings to try and escape his hold.  
  
“Just get him that star, please?” Chloe tells Lucifer as she makes her way around the bar to take the baby in her arms and sit on the floor to stay hidden from view. Lucifer lets go of him, pulls the decoration off the transparent string it’s attached to and reaches them to deposit the star in Charlie’s lap. It’s so big that the boy basically disappears behind it as he hugs it to his chest, squeezed between it and Chloe’s front, but at least he goes immediately quiet.  
  
“That’s all they need to do to get what they want, just _annoy_ you into indulging them. Unbelievable.” Lucifer shakes his head, hands on his hips. “Now can you please hide those wretched things, child? We have a party to get ready for!”  
  
“Lucifer, he doesn’t know what ‘wretched things’ means.” Chloe turns to the toddler. “Charlie, baby, can you please put your wings away? For me?”  
  
“Yes, auntie Chloe,” he goes, immediately doing what she asked. Wow, good thing he seems to be a pretty reasonable baby, all things considered, otherwise they wouldn’t be able to take him anywhere.  
  
“Aw, that’s so cute,” she coos. “Auntie Chloe!”  
  
“You’re not even angry, that’s how easily they win you over.” Lucifer looks so disappointed as he takes his phone out of his pocket, tapping hurriedly at the screen.  
  
“What are you doing?” Chloe asks around a chuckle, as Charlie plays with the star in her arms.  
  
“Something my brother should have done, but he’s not exactly the brightest of feathers, if you know what I mean.” He taps one last time with his index finger, looking extremely proud of himself, then turns the phone toward her. “There. Will get it by tomorrow, if all goes well.”  
  
She snorts. “A baby leash? So you can, what, keep him floating around like a balloon?”  
  
“Your words, not mine, Detective,” he grins, infuriatingly smug. “I was only thinking of the boy’s safety.”  
  
“Of course you were.”  
  
They sit at the table to have their Chinese food while Charlie plays with what is now _his_ paper star, obviously. The fact that at some point he will find out that his uncle made the real ones crosses Chloe’s mind, making her smile as she eats, before another thought strikes her.  
  
“Wait, did _he_ eat?”  
  
Lucifer rolls his eyes as he shoves another dumpling in his mouth. “Of course he did, Detective. I despise the creatures, but that doesn’t mean I would deny them nourishment.” He uses his chopsticks to point at a bulky guy in a corner, who waves back enthusiastically. “Gave that bloke a hundred dollars to feed him for me. As you can see, worked out just dandy for everyone involved.” He flashes her a smile full of teeth and pride, as if the discovery that you can pay people to do stuff for you was his and his alone.  
  
“Yeah, that’s… great.” Chloe eyes the child, who magically fell asleep on the bench next to them, still wrapped around his oversized bounty. “And you’re keeping him with you. For the night. During a bachelorette party.”  
  
“Yup,” Lucifer replies, popping the ‘p’. “With you by my side, of course. I won’t let you avoid your responsibilities again, Detective. We’re doing this together, like you said.”  
  
It’s not exactly what she had in mind when she said it, but it’s the least she can do to keep an eye on him if he’s hellbent on proving this point to her: that he can do whatever he wants without any major baby-related changes. It will be fun to see him fail, and she can be there to take Charlie home the moment he gets tired.  
  
She arranges for Trixie to stay at Dan’s for the night, goes home to change and returns to Lux in a short-but-not-too-short red dress, her hair left flowing down her back. With the workers and equipment gone, the place finally feels like a club again, although very different; but some things, of course, never change.  
  
Lucifer is at the bar, now dressed in one of his dark green suits, the deep rich color contrasting beautifully with his skin tone. Charlie is once again strapped to his chest, and a group of at least ten women surrounds him, making cooing noises at the child and ogling the man said child is attached to as if he was a piece of prime quality steak.  
  
Because of course they are. How did she not see this coming? Hell, how did _he_ not see this coming? Tall, dark, handsome _and_ taking care of a cute baby? Perfect recipe for ovaries exploding.  
  
“Oh my God, your son is so adorable!” one of them gushes as Chloe walks closer. “Where’s your mommy, cutie pie? I can’t believe she left your daddy here all alone!”  
  
Ugh, they are so obvious it’s almost ridiculous: even Lucifer doesn’t seem to know what to say, until he spots Chloe approaching, his face breaking into a big smile.  
  
“Oh, he’s not my son, just my nephew.” He uses his arm to open a gap into the small crowd and circle her shoulders, drawing her closer. “My girlfriend and I are babysitting him for the weekend while his parents are away.”  
  
The woman’s face falls, though to her credit, she recovers quickly. “Aw, that’s so sweet of you guys. Uhm, girls, let’s hit the buffet, what do you say?” And off they go, like a pack of wolves searching for their next prey, which turns out to be fruity punch and cheeses.  
  
Despite feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush, Chloe must admit that it was nice to hear Lucifer call her his girlfriend and immediately turn down the advances directed his way. She smiles up at him fondly, reveling in the feeling of his protective arm around her, but the expression she finds on his face is so smug that she immediately wants to punch it away.  
  
“What?”  
  
He’s almost glowing, the bastard. “Detective, that was an eye-opener! No, a complete game-changer! Why wasn’t I told human offspring can have such an effect on the opposite sex? Goodness, I would have gotten myself one a long time ago if I had known! Who needs a fancy car when you have _this_ woman magnet right here?” He gestures at Charlie, who is playing with a small stuffed penguin. “Finally, a good use for these creatures!”  
  
One day, Chloe will shoot this man again. She’s sure of it. Good thing she doesn’t have her gun on her at the moment.  
  
“He’s not a toy, you know. You can’t ‘get yourself one’ and then return it when you’re done using it for your own selfish goals.”  
  
“Pretty sure I can, darling. In fact, I'd say it’s exactly what’s happening here.” He eyes her pensively, a naughty thought clearly taking shape in that bird brain of his. “Say… are _you_ not affected in the least, Detective? Come now, you can tell me.” He stares at her as he would with a suspect, despite knowing it doesn’t work, but Chloe squirms nonetheless. Because, well… deep down, she knows the answer.  
  
“I- I told you your devilish charms or whatever they are don’t work on me, Lucifer,” she tries weakly, but he catches her hesitation right away, grinning triumphantly.  
  
“Oh oh oh, this _is_ doing something for you, too! Interesting.” He frowns, then points down at his crotch. “Still, this baby angel factory is closed for business, Detective, so don’t get any ideas. No little Antichrist for this Devil right here. Perish the thought.”  
  
“You are such an ass.”  
  
“Aw, it’s been a while since the last time you called me that. It’s making me nostalgic.”  
  
That’s when Chloe kisses him – to shut him up, yes, but also… oh, fuck it, he _does_ look like a snack with his tailored suit (somehow not even slightly wrinkled by the harness) and the adorable baby strapped to his chest, making him look all mature and responsible and tender; such a basic, instinctual reaction from a woman who always struggled to find reliable male companions in her life. She’s past that now, content to be with someone who makes her happy, who cherishes and adores her; but at least as a fantasy, there is no harm in enjoying it.  
  
She will never admit it out loud, of course, just like she won’t admit that, indeed, Lucifer ends up hosting the event exactly as intended, piano performance included (a perfect rendition of _Rocket Man_ while the future bride makes her grand entrance _inside_ the spaceship, which does work, landing in the middle of the room to be welcomed by strippers in space helmets and… not a lot more than that, really).  
  
“Linda will kill me,” is all she manages to comment through gritted teeth, pressing one side of her glass to her forehead as she watches from the bar.  
  
And it’s only _Friday_.

  
_2\. Appeal to his competitive side_  
  
On Saturday morning, Chloe wakes before Lucifer and Charlie (who slept between them in her bed) to greet Dan and Trixie at the door. Having a stake-out, her ex husband leaves right away, so Chloe prepares breakfast for her and Trixie and enjoys herself by telling her daughter all about the space-themed party of the night before (accordingly edited for young audiences, of course, and what a coincidence that Trixie’s sweater is the one saying _I need my space!_).  
  
When Lucifer appears, walking sleepily down the stairs, it’s with Charlie clinging to the back of his sweatpants like a bear cub hugging a pot of honey, not even touching the floor as his uncle drags him behind him. Lucifer’s hair is a bird nest as usual, and still shiny from the glitter that rained on him when he announced the over-the-top arrival of the bride.  
  
“I swear, it’s like he has glue on his hands,” Lucifer mutters as he approaches the kitchen counter. “Who knows, maybe it’s his superpower. Climbing all over stuff.”  
  
_So, same as any other baby_, Chloe thinks with an internal roll of her eyes.  
  
“Like Spiderman!” Trixie says instead, leaving her stool to crouch down and detach the toddler from the Devil’s leg. “Hello, you! I've missed you!”  
  
“Trissie!” Charlie greets back as the girl sits again with him in her lap. He's still unable to properly pronounce the ‘x’ sound of her name, and his pyjamas say _On your left_, a quote from a falcon… winged… superhero Amenadiel apparently relates to (the whole explanation fell on deaf ears with Chloe, but certainly not with Ella, who is basically responsible for half of the child's wardrobe; if Chloe doesn’t catch up on Marvel stuff, soon she won’t be able to understand most of his clothes).  
  
She sets up a bowl of milk and cereal and a plate with cookies and banana slices for Charlie and lets Trixie feed him, enjoying the adorable sight. Lucifer gets a mug of coffee and a plate of pancakes, which he dives into as if starved, as usual.  
  
Once Charlie is done, Trixie cleans his mouth with a napkin and wonders aloud, “What should we do today? Wanna watch the morning cartoons with me? Oh, I know! We can draw! Do you like drawing?”  
  
“Yes!” Charlie replies, bouncing on her legs, and so it is that the two children leave the breakfast counter and head to the low living room table, where Trixie temporarily leaves Charlie to retrieve empty notebooks and colors from her room.  
  
“Wanna watch and see what they get up to?” Chloe asks Lucifer while he stands up and goes to put his now empty plate in the sink. He shrugs.  
  
“Yeah, why not. I'm sure it will be _riveting_,” he deadpans, but with a teasing smile that shows he’s not really that grumpy. Chloe reaches up and shakes his hair just so, giggling as more glitter rains down on the loose black T-shirt he slept in.  
  
They both settle on one of the sofas and watch as Trixie gives Charlie a blank piece of paper and spreads all the colors she owns on the table between them. Lucifer’s arm circles Chloe’s shoulders, his fingers trailing absentmindedly up and down her arm as a feeling of happy, quiet laziness settles in her chest. Their life in the field is never this easy, so these moments are just gold in her book.  
  
“Let’s start with something simple,” Trixie instructs, although in the meantime, Charlie already decided that his blank canvas absolutely needed a wobbly red line cutting across it. “A flower!”  
  
“Okay,” Charlie agrees quietly. With the same red sharpie, he simply draws another line and a circle on top of it, not even connected to what is supposed to be the stem. He grabs the paper and waves it in the air. “Flower!”  
  
“That’s really nice, Charlie,” Chloe chuckles, while Trixie adds thorns to what is a fairly decent representation of a rose.  
  
“No, it’s not!” Lucifer objects. “It doesn’t even look like a- Ow!” he splutters when Chloe elbows him in the ribs.  
  
“Lucifer, he’s _small_,” even Trixie reprimands him. He gapes at both of them in turn, affronted.  
  
“Well, no matter! How is he supposed to get better if you don’t give him constructive criticism? Empty flattery is just another form of lying, you know? Fine, I'll show you.”  
  
Chloe covers her mouth not to laugh as Lucifer leaves the sofa and sits, cross-legged, on the empty side of the table, directly facing her. Trixie hands him a piece of paper, scowling all the while, and observes with her arms crossed as the angel draws his own version of the assignment, switching from green to yellow to light blue for the petals.  
  
“Here, child. _This_ is a flower.” He shows it to Charlie, who just beams in agreement, oblivious, and comments with a basic, “I like blue!”  
  
“That’s… not exactly a compliment, but I'll take it,” Lucifer shrugs.

  
  
But Trixie is not having it. “I could draw a better one at the age of five, Lucifer. Stop being so smug! It has zero details, and the petals are not even the same length!”  
  
“Are you challenging me, urchin?”  
  
“To a drawing contest? You bet I am! It’s on!”  
  
Chloe has the impression of staring at two forces of nature ready to tear each other apart: the urge to collect Charlie from the floor and run for cover is getting strong. Instead, she decides to volunteer, “And I can be the judge! You guys decide together what to draw each time, and I will assign one point to the best version of that thing. Let’s see who gets to five first.”  
  
Lucifer arches an eyebrow. “And you promise you’ll be impartial? Detective’s honor?”  
  
She chuckles. “Yes, I promise.”  
  
Though let’s be honest: no matter how many Renaissance painters Lucifer must have encountered (and, uhm, “spent time with”), his artistic skills are basically non-existent, it’s a fact. In a way, it’s a “flaw” so mundane, so endearingly human, that she almost cherishes it as something inherently his, something his being the Devil, an angel, an immortal simply can’t change for the better.  
  
“Very well, then. Challenge accepted.”  
  
They all get new sheets of paper, Charlie included, and decide to start the competition with a horse. In the meantime, just for fun, Chloe writes their names on three different sheets so she can lift the one showing the name of the winner of each round.  
  
Charlie’s horse slowly turns out to be a yellow line with way too many legs, while Lucifer’s is at least accurate in that department, but for some reason the head is too big and the neck too long. Once they all show the result (Charlie with some extra prompting), it’s obvious that Trixie’s horse is the best one.  
  
“I knew it!” Lucifer protests as Chloe lifts the paper showing Trixie’s name. “Impartial my arse!”  
  
“_Language_,” Chloe and Trixie scold him in unison, laughing once they realize it. Then Trixie adds, “And anyway, what happened to yours? It looks like a lama!”  
  
“Is this harassment going to be tolerated for much longer, judge Decker? What happened to fair play?” Lucifer asks, throwing his arms in the air exasperatedly.  
  
Chloe is never sure whether he is _really_ outraged or he plays the part for fun, but not knowing only makes it all the more hilarious. It reminds her of a playfulness they lost for a while, of Monopoly nights back when she was unaware of so many things. To still be able to channel it now, after everything, is a relief, and a reminder that underneath it all he will always be the same goofball she fell in love with when she thought he was human.  
  
“You’re right,” she says as solemnly as she can. “Monkey, please refrain from negative comments and focus on your performance, thank you.”  
  
Her choice of words leads them to their next subject, a monkey. Point 2 for Trixie, to Lucifer’s renewed frustration, “How can she be better at this? I was there when these things were created!” and Trixie’s snarky reply, “Then you were not paying attention!”  
  
Third subject is a house, for which Chloe decides to grant Charlie a point because… well, because it’s funny to see Lucifer lose to children, mainly.  
  
“There’s just something about his style, you know,” she justifies her choice with an exaggerated air of professionalism. “The abstract lines, almost visionary! You guys just didn’t think outside the box.”  
  
Just to make it more interesting, though, she does concede Lucifer a few victories, until he and Trixie both have four points each. The deciding assignment is a car. When the three hold up their drawings for inspection, Charlie’s is an unrecognizable tangle of lines, Trixie’s is a big red jeep and Lucifer’s is, of course, his own Corvette. With a Devil stick figure sitting inside it, smoking cigarette between his lips and all.  
  
“Trixie!” Chloe announces, appreciating the details of her daughter’s work.  
  
“_Yesss_,” Trixie erupts almost under her breath, eyes closed and fist moving downward, before turning to Lucifer and imitating a blade slitting her throat, tongue out. Her demon side showing, basically, which becomes even more obvious when she tells Lucifer something in Lilim that makes his eyes and mouth widen.  
  
“Beatrice! And you kiss your mother with that mouth?” he yelps – oh no, this means Chloe will have to learn it, too, to keep track of what Trixie says when she thinks she can’t understand her. Great. “Don’t get me wrong, I would applaude you under any other circumstance, but this is unacceptable!”  
  
Lucifer then turns to her. “As for you, Detective, this is an absolute travesty! I call bribery, corruption! Look, I even added a driver, doesn’t that count for something?” When all she does is giggle, he searches for approval elsewhere, turning to his nephew. “And what do _you_ have to say?”  
  
Charlie stops nibbling at the cap of the sharpie in his hand and uses it to point at Lucifer’s drawing. “Uncle Luci!” he gestures at the stick figure, which has angel wings and devil horns. “Cool!”  
  
“Oh, finally. Someone who appreciates my art.” Lucifer studies the toddler like a complicated puzzle. “You know, you’re not _that_ bad after all, little mutant. Must be the Linda Martin in you.”  
  
Ah, yes, flattery. The one non-celestial weapon not even the Devil is immune to.

  
  
_3\. Find some outdoor activity for them to enjoy together_  
  
“So, let me get this straight… what is the plan, exactly, if the little one here decides to fly away? ‘Cause you know it’s bound to happen if we really go see the bird show, right?”  
  
Lucifer stops munching on his chips long enough to answer Ella, mouth still full, “Easy, I pull him back down”, while showing her the end of the baby leash wrapped around his wrist.  
  
Charlie walks indeed at a close distance as they enjoy their Sunday at the Los Angeles Zoo, the bright green harness Lucifer ordered from the Internet framing his _I'm So Fly I Neverland_ sweater. Chloe never used this sort of thing with Trixie, and being a cop, she made a point of teaching her daughter to never wander away on her own in case she met some ill-intentioned stranger. So now, it’s a bit of a weird sight to get used to, and the dog comparison is difficult to shake off.  
  
“Yeaaah, and what do we say to people? ‘Oh, sorry, nothing to see here! Just a toddler getting tired of his super adorable feet being stuck to the ground, ha-ha!’ That’s not gonna work, dude.”  
  
Trixie looks at Charlie for a moment, pursing her lips. “You know, I think all we have to do is keep him close so he doesn’t manage to actually _leave_ the ground. And if they come out, we can say the wings are part of the leash itself. I have seen many with butterfly wings and other stuff, it’s pretty common.”  
  
“The clever urchin,” Lucifer praises, words mingling together as he chews. “See, Miss Lopez? All good!”  
  
“Let’s hope so,” Ella mumbles, eyes wide and unconvinced.  
  
To reach the open-air amphitheater where the bird show takes place, they walk through the bird section of the zoo, with big enclosures dedicated to many different, colorful species. As instructed, Lucifer shortens the length of the leash by wrapping the excess around his wrist, keeping Charlie closer to his leg.

  
  
“Don’t get any ideas, Amena-spawn. I know it’s tempting, but don’t let all these pretty birds inspire you, alright?” They stop in front of the black vulture enclosure, where two specimens stare back at them with their piercing dark eyes. “Ah, there you go. They remind you a bit of your dad, don’t they? Large wings, small brains, feeding off the bounties of more gracious animals. I mean, think about it: first Maze, then-”  
  
“Theeen nothing! Uncle Luci is just joking, baby!” Chloe glares at Lucifer, who innocently asks, “What? Boy must have the full picture!”  
  
And what a picture. Finding out his mother and uncle slept together? Better stick to that charming story about cool uncle Lucifer making pretty stars, if you ask her.  
  
“Luckily, I'm pretty sure he didn’t get any of that.” She crouches down and points at the vultures. “Do you like those, Charlie? They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”  
  
“Daddy!” Charlie replies, gesturing at the creatures. “Two daddies!”  
  
Ella, Trixie and Lucifer burst out laughing, while Chloe covers her face with her palm: a motion that has surely become way more frequent ever since meeting Lucifer. One could say it’s an art she has mastered at this point: being done.  
  
“Right. We’ll just… make sure not to mention this to Amenadiel.”  
  
“Oh, speak for yourself, dear.”  
  
They finally reach the space dedicated to the bird show and take their seats. A green patch of grass covers the center of the amphitheater, while behind it stands a compound of buildings from which the trainers will come out to perform. As the crowd gathers and sits, Trixie picks up Charlie and keeps him in her lap, arms loosely wrapped around him just in case.  
  
“Thank you, Beatrice,” Lucifer says, relieved that she decided to take care of it.  
  
The two share a sincere, comfortable smile that is immediately contagious. Chloe appreciates it as the sign of maturity that it is: Trixie recognizing Lucifer’s boundaries and offering an easy solution instead of mocking or pressing him. True, she still hugs him randomly just to make him jump out of his skin, but to be fair, his reaction has also improved significantly.  
  
Who knows, maybe he’ll get used to Charlie the same way, if only to turn him against his father or teach him inappropriate words. And how sex works. In detail. Most likely with graphic drawings involved.  
  
The show includes condors, vultures, hawks, owls and eagles, among the most famous species featured. As expected, at the first glimpse of a bird taking flight, Charlie looks up in awe, giggles “Like me!” and proceeds to manifest his wings to try and do the same. But Trixie holds him in place, and thanks to Lucifer’s big frame on one side and Ella not-so-subtly shielding the boy from view on the other, they manage not to attract attention.  
  
“Wow, those look very realistic,” a woman whispers in Chloe’s ear once she notices the wings. “That thing must have cost a fortune.”  
  
Charlie complains and struggles for a while, but Trixie keeps him distracted and entertained by describing what is happening with enthusiasm. The show ends, and the child is returned to the ground, wings showing but leash short.  
  
Their next destination is the reptile house, with snakes, turtles, lizards and other animals kept in glass cases on either side. The moment they step in, Lucifer grimaces.  
  
“Bloody hell, I _hate_ snakes. Such an offense to be compared to these scaly, slithering creatures. I do embrace the moniker when it comes to roleplay, I admit, but it was just because Eve got nostalgic from time to time.”  
  
“Yup, I remember. I remember _aaall_ the things you did together, Lucifer. Fun!”  
  
Lucifer stops in his tracks at Chloe’s words, halting Charlie’s steps in the process. He can be so oblivious sometimes, but at least he catches up… eventually.  
  
“Oh, darling, my apologies. That was insensitive of me.”  
  
“So, Eden-themed dressing up, uh?” Ella nods thoughtfully. “Gotcha.”  
  
Lucifer studies her with a knowing smirk. “I still have the costumes if you have someone to try them with, Miss Lopez. You just need to ask! Not as a favor, of course, more like a gift. No devilish IOUs for my favorite forensic scientist.”  
  
Trixie snorts (oh right, Trixie is listening to _all of this_, great). “Isn’t she, like, the _only_ forensic scientist you know?”  
  
“Irrelevant,” Lucifer dismisses her.  
  
They stop in front of a case labelled as _Albino Corn Snake_, a lithe, white specimen wrapped around a branch inside.  
  
“Hey, Lucifer, look! You _do_ have something in common! It has red eyes!” Trixie points out excitedly. Lucifer frowns and steps closer to make sure.  
  
“Well, true, but that’s all there is to it.”  
  
“Oh, oh, I have another one!” Ella waves her hand as if asking permission to speak in a classroom. “When they swallow things whole, they get all big and bloated, like your cheeks when you eat Cool Ranch Puffs!”  
  
“Thank you, Miss Lopez, I believe that’s quite enough for-”  
  
“And he can be easily charmed, too,” Chloe jumps in, eager for revenge after his earlier comment. “Not with a flute, but if you wave a certain type of _stolen evidence_ in front of his face, the result is the same.”  
  
“Riiight!” Ella agrees, laughing along with her and Trixie.  
  
“What a clever bunch you all are. Smarty-pants, the lot of you,” Lucifer goes, then looks down at his nephew. “Seems like you’re the only one who shows any respect for this poor Devil, Amena-child.”  
  
With a timing that couldn’t be better, said winged child tugs at the fabric of his pants. “’m tired, uncle Luci. Up?”  
  
Trixie steps forward to pick him up herself, but Lucifer lifts his hand to stop her. They didn’t bring the carrier with them, so he knows he doesn’t have many options. He tilts his head to the side and frowns in concentration, almost bracing himself for a world-altering decision. Chloe can sense so clearly that he’s about to push his boundaries, and the scene oddly feels like a documentary about animals interacting for the first time. How appropriate.  
  
“Right, let’s get this over with,” he eventually says with an air of finality. He picks Charlie up from under his armpits, sits him on his shoulders and points one finger up in warning. “But _no_ touching my hair, understood? And don’t put your bloody shoes on my suit, it’s Prada.”  
  
“’kay,” Charlie replies, and to his credit, holds on to Lucifer’s ears instead, the soles of his feet facing forward. Still, Chloe is pretty sure the suit will be sent to the cleaner first chance he gets, but you know, baby steps. Literally.

  
  
“O-M-G, you guys look _so_ cute!” Ella bounces on her feet, then takes out her phone and directs the camera at them, but Lucifer doesn’t seem to notice.  
  
“I'll let it slide only because you used the acronym, Miss- No, don’t!” The photo gets taken, its click unmistakable. “Lovely. Just lovely.”  
  
“I will print this and hang it at the precinct.” Ella beams as they make their way out of the reptile house. “And frame it on my desk. And make mugs and T-shirts and pillows, the whole package. They love me at the store, so I’m sure I'll be able to get a discount.”  
  
“A solid plan, to be sure. So, how much do you want _not_ to go through with it?”  
  
Ella shakes her head in disapproval. “You can’t put a price on cuteness, you big dummy.”  
  
“I can put a price on _anything_, dear. There are women out there who would kill for a lock of my hair.”  
  
“Can confirm.” Chloe shudders. “I actually had the pleasure of meeting one.”  
  
“That’s… not creepy at all!” Ella comments, wide-eyed, although in fairness… well, that Suki Price had a very similar energy. Chloe can only pray the two never meet: who knows what could come of it.  
  
Charlie falls asleep and _stays_ asleep for the rest of the visit, dozing while slumped on top of Lucifer’s head (“Bollocks,” the Devil complains, but doesn’t put him down).  
  
They move the baby to his designated seat for the ride home, then lie him down in the middle of Chloe’s bed with pillows on either side of his now harness-free body, wings folded close to his back. With a bit of time left before dinner, Chloe and Lucifer end up lingering at the bedroom door, each leaning against one side of the frame.  
  
The room is quiet, save for Charlie’s soft snoring, and it sinks in that the dreaded weekend is almost coming to an end. Chloe steals a glance at Lucifer, who catches her staring and tilts his head.  
  
“What?” he asks, curious.  
  
“You did good,” she tells him, turning fully towards him. “Well, I'd say we both did.”  
  
“Obviously. We are a team, you and I, Detective. We’re partners.”  
  
Oh, it might seem like such a small statement to anyone else, but it means so much to Chloe. Partners. Equals. No matter how much nature tried to make them anything but that.  
  
She smiles and looks back at Charlie. For a moment, they both do, but she can sense the beginning of a speech forming inside Lucifer’s head. Another acquired talent of hers – not supernatural, but definitely Devil-related.  
  
“Do you know why I don’t want children, Detective?” he eventually proves her right, although the question does surprise her. She didn’t think he would ever go there, because it’s not like he doesn’t make it clear every minute of every day.  
  
“You mean, aside from the fact that you find them absolutely disgusting?” she chuckles, immediately joined by him.  
  
“Oh, that’s because they _are_, and I stand by it wholeheartedly. I'll have to shampoo my hair at least _thrice_ tonight!” Then he turns serious, so Chloe does too. “But aside from that, it’s because… they look up to you. Depend on you. Adore you unconditionally. And I… I used to be that way. Full of love and devotion, ready to do anything to please and to be praised, until my parents grew cold and distant and too busy fighting against each other to even care about what I wanted.”  
  
He shifts his weight, fidgeting. “So… I don’t want to risk being on the receiving end of that. Of disappointment, anger, heartbreak. It’s hard enough to make sure that doesn’t happen with the urchin, and she’s not even _mine_.”  
  
Chloe feels her heart squeeze inside her chest at everything he said, but she can’t help but focus on his last statement. “You- you’re afraid of disappointing Trixie?”  
  
Lucifer’s face scrunches up as if he can’t believe she asked, open and vulnerable.  
  
“All the time, Detective. Because I know that hurting _you_ would disappoint her, and I have done it so many times.”  
  
“Oh, Lucifer.” Chloe steps closer, takes his hand and presses a soft kiss to the back of it. “She was mad at you when you left, it’s true, but she has moved on, just like I have.”  
  
Besides, they have both been champions at that. Hurting each other. Not anymore, it’s true, but it’s actually better not to keep score. Chloe would be too scared of finding out the winner.  
  
But Lucifer is not done. She wonders if all of this has been bottled up inside him for a long time, or if it just came up because of their recent task. Either way, it can only be good for him to let it out. The time for secrets between them has come and gone, and she realizes that maybe, this weekend has been about _them_ bonding, too.  
  
“It’s not just that. The thing is, I have too much to lose already.” Lucifer’s gaze suddenly fills with pain. “Detective, all the times you've been in danger, and those few times Beatrice has… I have never felt that much dread for someone else’s life before. And let’s face it, perhaps it’s not always the case, but… don’t think I don’t understand how much trouble I have sent your way, or that I don’t know all the ways you can be used against me. Because I think about it _constantly_. Sometimes I even feel like I should have stayed back there, just to make sure-”  
  
“No.” Chloe squeezes his hand. She needs to be adamant on this. “I'm a big girl, Lucifer, and so is Trixie. We have our eyes wide open now, we know the risks, and we accept them.”  
  
Lucifer stays silent for a bit, thinking. As he stares at his sleeping nephew, a shadow settles over his features, a mask of guilt and regret.  
  
“I was the one who told them, you know.” At Chloe’s confused expression, he elaborates further. “The demons Eve summoned to bring me back. I was the one who told them Charlie even _existed_. I was so sure of myself, so certain they would follow my orders, that I let it slip just like that.” The anguish on his face deepens, his brow furrowing. “What- what if they had hurt him, Chloe? Tortured him, even?”  
  
Well, this specific thing must have been on his mind for a while, at least. Chloe cups his cheeks and turns him toward her, trying to ground him in the moment before his thoughts drag him somewhere far away.  
  
“They didn’t. It’s all that matters now, okay? They didn’t, and you saved him.” _And for a while, you left us all to keep him safe, too_. What a terrible night that was, together with the months that followed.  
  
Lucifer smiles gratefully, then turns slightly to kiss her palm. It’s one thing they never managed to do right before, communicating, but they’re better at it now. Feeling him relax, Chloe moves her hands to his neck and lets him continue.  
  
“What I mean is, I have all I need. No, _more_ than I need. And it’s _terrifying_.” He chuckles, looking up at the ceiling. “I don’t want a new reason to be scared. I don’t want a new _person_ in my life to worry about. I never saw it this way before, but with _you_… Chloe, I know I'd care. In my very own Lucifer-way, certainly, but I would. So you may call it cowardice, if you like, because it is. I'm just… I'm not strong enough.”  
  
Of course he would say that, misguided as always. If there is one thing truly human about him, it’s how little of himself he thinks sometimes.  
  
“Lucifer, you’re the strongest person I know. There is nothing wrong with any of this, and it doesn’t make you any weaker. Plus, you know I understand. After Malcolm, I am even more aware of the fact that Trixie can always be used as leverage against me. Devil or no Devil, what we _do_ is dangerous. You don’t have to justify yourself to me. I get it, and I agree.”  
  
It’s all hypothetical considering it might not even be possible for them, but honestly, Chloe does agree. Even not taking into account Lucifer’s aversion to children, she likes her life as it is, and the balance it’s based on is so delicate.  
  
Only one thought gives her pause: the idea of leaving Lucifer _someone_, someone who will stay with him when she won’t be able to any longer. A part of herself, so to speak. But Charlie’s immortality is not even certain, and anyway, it doesn’t feel like a good reason to have a child together. It isn’t.  
  
Ah, damn this weekend and the musings it brought forth. Thank a certain Someone it’s over.  
  
On Monday morning, just as Chloe and Lucifer are getting ready to go back to work, Linda and Amenadiel come to pick up Charlie, glowing and clearly well-rested (yep, they had sex, case closed). Chloe feels kinda jealous: maybe she should ask for the favor to be returned and drag Lucifer away to a spa retreat, too. Or… a camping trip? Yeah, that feels more her style.  
  
“A-mini-diel!” Lucifer’s brother calls out at the sight of his son running into his arms, to the amusement of all the people present.  
  
“Brother, please, desist,” Lucifer chuckles as he hands Linda the bag, carrier and seat. “It will never catch on, and besides, I came up with much better ones myself. Oh, and your child compared you to a vulture. Well, I did, but he agreed.”  
  
Amenadiel scoops Charlie up into his arms and looks at Lucifer with his typical, almost supernatural patience, a smile on his lips. “So, I take it you guys had fun together?”  
  
“So much fun!” Charlie replies, smiling brightly.  
  
“It was alright,” Lucifer shrugs, disappointed that Amenadiel didn’t take the bait of his provocation. From the counter where she’s closing up her backpack, Trixie giggles.  
  
“Lucifer took him to a bachelorette party with astronauts, and Charlie almost flew away! Then we had a drawing contest, which I won, and went to the zoo where Lucifer kept him on a leash. It was hilarious!”  
  
“Not- not a dog leash, a _baby_ leash,” Chloe clarifies, looking at Linda in alarm, but luckily she’s smiling fondly.  
  
Good thing Trixie didn’t go into detail about the stuff Charlie actually _saw_ at that party. Chloe is pretty sure he even got his hands on actual money before it landed into space-themed underwear, but hey, they should have known when they left him with _Lucifer_.  
  
“It’s okay. That’s actually not a bad idea. Thank you both so much for this.” Linda’s smile brightens when her gaze settles on her devilish friend and patient, who perks up under the attention.  
  
“You’re most welcome, my lovely Doctor,” he preens. “Now, brother, about you owing me-”  
  
“Hey, Trixie, come here!” Amenadiel cuts him off, waving his free hand in the air. “It’s time for your payment, I believe!”  
  
“Her _what_?”  
  
Amenadiel ignores him as Trixie reaches them at the door. Even Chloe is unaware of there being an arrangement between them. She watches in surprise as the angel hands her daughter fifty dollars and produces a transparent plastic box containing chocolate cake from inside the backpack slung over his shoulder, a second prize she accepts with a huge, giddy smile.  
  
“I'm sorry, what the hell is going on here? I was the one who did the bloody babysitting!”  
  
Amenadiel chuckles. “That might be true, Luci, but we also needed someone to babysit _you_.”  
  
Lucifer scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest, surrounded by barely-contained laughter. “Very funny, but I’m still going to ask for _my_ payment, so sucks for you.” Then he pauses for emphasis: clearly, he has put a lot of thought into this. But what could be a bigger request than retirement as King of Hell?  
  
“I want you to tell Linda all about that time you thought you got cast in a porno, and made a fool of yourself on set.” Right, Amenadiel's humiliation. Checks out. “Either you do it, or I will. Or better yet: I can have _Misty_ call and tell the tale. What’s your poison, Amenadildo?”  
  
Chloe chokes on her own breath, coughing. Trixie has gone back to the kitchen to put the cake in her backpack, though, so that’s something at least. At this point, Charlie growing up with his innocence intact will be the _real_ miracle in the family.  
  
“Okay, first of all, don’t ever call me that again. Second… yeah, fine, I'll do it.” Amenadiel’s eyes turn to slits. “I hate you.”  
  
“Nah, you love me.”  
  
“_I_ love you, uncle Luci!” Charlie claps from his father’s hold. “I love you sooo much! This big!” He spreads his little arms as far as they can go to prove it.  
  
Lucifer fiddles with an already perfect cufflink, then clears his throat awkwardly. Those three little words, no matter who utters them, always leave him speechless.  
  
“I, uh… you are not so bad yourself, child. You just need to cultivate your artistic talent and learn how to form sentences longer than five words, but hey, we can’t all be perfect. Well, _I_ can, but let’s not set impossible standards.”  
  
“Yeah, let’s not do that.” Chloe rolls her eyes, but lets tenderness fill her as she sneakily eyes her boyfriend from the side.  
  
Because he’s not perfect, and she isn’t either: _they_ are not. But against all odds, they survived (this weekend and so many other, worse things), and day after day, they make it work.  
  
And it really is all she needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here](https://kenobrea.tumblr.com/) you can find all the vignettes on the artist's page, go give her some love! ❤


	14. How to... put a stop to his premature unfurling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s hard to protect fragile surfaces when your boyfriend’s wings tend to have a will of their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original idea by NotOneLine, with special thanks to barbie_forevernerd, MoanDiary and TheWillowBends for their suggestions. Warning for vague sexual content ahead, but never in too much detail.
> 
> Celebrating 1.000 kudos reached! Yay! 🎉

“Mmm, Detective, we'll never even reach the shower if you don’t let me go,” Lucifer purrs. He’s the one crowding Chloe against the vanity of her modest bathroom, but to be fair, it’s also true that she has her arms and legs firmly wrapped around him, fingers scratching at his scalp as they kiss lazily.

“Fine by me,” she murmurs against his lips. “Let’s just… stay here.”

“You don’t find me gross?” Lucifer asks in a half-whisper, his mouth trailing down her neck as his hands stroke up and down her clothed sides. Out of context, it might seem like an odd question, but they both just came back from the precinct's gym and they _definitely_ need a shower.

It’s just… he didn’t change back into his suit before leaving, since he refused to use the communal showers of the locker room (“That’s a very naughty fantasy in theory, but a germ-infested nightmare in reality, Detective”), so he’s still wearing the black tank top and sweatpants he had on while exercising with her and… it’s hot, okay? She appreciates the crisp lines of a suit as much as anyone else, but this means _more_ skin to see and touch, and he’s sweaty but not too sweaty and his hair is all mussed and–

“Darling, are you still here with me?” Lucifer pulls back to smirk at her. “What _are_ you thinking about in that lovely head of yours, mm?”

“You,” Chloe replies easily. “Always you.”

His expression lights up like a Christmas tree. “Good things, I hope?”

She kisses him, her hands sliding down to frame his stubbled cheeks. “_Sexy_ things,” she clarifies right after, smiling seductively.

Lucifer pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, a gesture she used to find lewd and inappropriate, but that now only serves to promise good things to come. _Very_ good things, though they are not the ones _coming_, exactly.

“Oh, _do_ tell. It’s this nice little get-up that’s doing it for you, isn’t it?” He presses one hand to his chest, feigning outrage. “Detective, after all the time and care I put in the way I dress. Turns out, all I needed was to look like any random sod jogging in the park for you to sleep with me?”

“I wouldn’t have either way, back when we first met. You were insufferable.” The use of the past tense is quite the generous concession, but Chloe is too smitten to care.

“It was part of the charm, love.”

“Oh, I'm sure that’s what _you_ thought.”

Lucifer’s hands slip under her white tank top, thumbs stroking circles into her skin in a familiar, reassuring motion. Seduction, now that the chasing between them has ended, often takes the form of tenderness.

“Come now, Detective, we both know you liked putting me back in line,” he grins, drawing her closer by the hips. “Think about how dreadfully boring your life was before you met me.”

In part, he is right, but if she admits as much she will never hear the end of it.

“Oh, poor me!” Chloe brings one hand up to press the back of it against her forehead, sighing dramatically. “How lucky I was, to stumble across the one and only _Lucifer bloody Morningstar_!” she concludes in a mockery of his British accent.

Lucifer raises an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. “No matter how many times you try, dear, that _still_ does not sound like me _at all._” One hand slides down to cup the curve of her ass, the other up to settle right under her opposite breast, making her suck in a sharp breath. “But yes, you _were_ quite lucky, indeed. And I am about to show you just how much.”

His kiss is one she expects and welcomes, but the intensity behind each one of them always surprises her regardless. Their mouths meet hungrily as they both shift closer to each other, slotting their hips together before briefly separating to take off their shirts and meet again, skin on skin. With no bra in the way given the tight and elastic fabric of Chloe’s top, Lucifer immediately ducks down to kiss down her chest, her fingers tangled tightly in his hair as he–

Her phone vibrates noisily on the counter on the other side of the sink, spinning angrily over the smooth surface. Lucifer groans in frustration, letting his forehead fall between her breasts and releasing the hold he has around her. He has learned by now that asking her not to answer it is pointless.

Chloe chuckles and kisses the top of his head. “Sorry, babe, I’ll try to make it quick,” she apologizes, before gently pushing him away so she can jump off the vanity. Ella’s name is now visible on the screen: something regarding their latest case, then? They were waiting for the report on the victim’s stomach contents, now that she thinks about it.

She hurriedly picks up her top from the floor, puts it on again and grabs her phone. “Start the shower without me and I'll join you as soon as I'm done, okay?” she tells Lucifer as she heads out the door and into her adjacent bedroom.

“Alright,” Lucifer sighs. “But don’t take too bloody long! The berries are ripe and ready to be–”

“_Don’t_ finish that sentence.” Chloe spins at the threshold and points at him threateningly with her free hand. “It’s not even sexy, it’s just gross.”

“Spoilsport.”

She ignores him and finally steps out, closing the door behind her. “Hey Ella, what’s up? Any news on the Carlson murder?” she says once she picks up.

But as it turns out, the call is not about that case at all. Or any case, for that matter. Ella has been online dating for a while, mostly to no avail (“LA dudes are _weird_, man”), but recently she seems to have hit it off with an IT guy who makes her laugh, compliments her T-shirts and owns a collection of Star Trek action figures _still_ inside the original packages. Which in Ella’s book is… well, good.

Or it was until today.

“I was trying to stop myself from checking his social media to make it all more mysterious, you know? Like, if a guy is into, I don’t know, creepy porcelain dolls or whatever, let _him_ be the one to tell you over coffee! Keeps the magic alive, am I right?”

“I… guess,” Chloe shrugs, sitting on the edge of the bed. She can sense this will be a _long_ conversation, but even as she stares longingly at the bathroom door and hears the shower running on the other side, it feels rude to cut Ella off.

“Well, today curiosity got the better of me anyway, and guess what? The asshole has a _girlfriend_! He gave me a fake surname so I wouldn’t track him down, but he was stupid enough to tell me the name of the company he works for, so I checked on their website and _bam_! There he was on the staff's page, with his dumb, nerdy face staring right back at me! Can you believe this? And here I was, ready to buy him a Lego Enterprise for his next birthday!”

“Oh, Ella, I'm so sorry.” She genuinely is, but on the other hand, checking the guy’s social media was probably the first step Ella should have taken, considering the weirdos (and downright psychos) one can find out there. “I know it sucks, but think about it this way: at least you found out before you got too attached. And I'm sure you’ll find someone else very soon! In the meantime, we can set up another Tribe night and you can bitch about it all you like. How does this sound?”

_Good, hopefully, so I can get back to the amazing shower sex I was about to enjoy before you called_, she prays silently.

“That would be perfect, Chlo, thank you,” Ella replies on the other end of the line. “I really need to vent and get drunk. But like, _really_ drunk. Grinding-against-a-pole drunk. No, grinding-against-a-random-_dude_ drunk. Or a woman! Do you remember when Eve kissed me? That felt nice. Like, her lips were so _soft_, you know? Men should _really_ learn to use chapstick more often. And shave better. I went out with this guy once, and his stubble was so prickly it made my–”

A commotion from inside the bathroom startles Chloe so suddenly that the phone slips from her hand and falls on the mattress. Was that… _glass_ breaking?

Panicking, she picks up the device and presses it back against her ear to hastily tell Ella she’ll call her back, then hangs up. She immediately sprints to the door, her heart beating wildly: did Lucifer fall and hit his head? Did he cut himself?

Oh God, he could be dead. That would be just her luck. Chloe Decker, miracle child, Detective extraordinaire and woman who turned a _tile_ into a weapon capable of killing the Devil himself.

“Lucifer?” she calls his name shakily the moment she opens the door and walks back into the bathroom. “Lucifer, are you okay?”

Thankfully, he is. Well, kind of. The shower is still running, water hitting his head where he’s sitting on the shower floor with a guilty expression on his face… and his wings out. Around him, the glass box that used to be there is now a scattering of wet, sharp shards, as if a bomb just went off inside. It’s all very, very bad, but the moment Chloe looks down at the hand in his lap, she starts giggling uncontrollably.

“Were you… Lucifer, did you just have a _wing boner_ in my _shower_?”

It’s not like it hasn’t happened before. Oh, it has. Usually when, mostly for stress or work-related reasons, she is too tired to have sex and he has to go without for more days than he's used to before they do it again. Which is… maybe three. Keeping up is quite the feat, but Chloe is very selfless, what can she say.

But the thing is, it usually happens in _larger_ spaces: as in, his or her bedroom. The one at the penthouse is so spacious and minimalistic that there is nothing to knock over; hers required a bit of work (no frames on the walls on either side of the bed, no lamps on the nightstands), but they solved that, too.

She can see how there was no way the shower box could have kept the wings contained instead: when they pop out in the heat of the moment, it’s not the gradual, slow unfurling that takes place when Lucifer _decides_ to let them out. It’s sudden, almost explosive, as if someone just pressed a button on a remote hidden somewhere inside him.

Lucifer glares at her as she keeps giggling and clutching at her belly, blinking rapidly to keep the water away from his eyes. With his hair plastered to his forehead and his wings all wet and ruffled, he looks like a very angry bird, and the sight only makes her laugh harder.

“Right, go on, let it all out!” he waves at her, scowling. “We'll conveniently ignore how this is your fault for leaving me here all hot and bothered to answer your bloody phone! You said to start without you and, well… I did!”

“I’m–I'm sorry,” Chloe snickers, trying to control her breathing as she approaches the mess around him. The gym shoes she’s still wearing make the glass crunch under her feet, the sound sobering her up. “Wait, are you hurt?”

Lucifer reaches up behind him and finally turns off the shower, but the motion makes him hiss. He frowns, then looks down at the hand he just used.

“Oh.” Even after all this time getting used to the vulnerability she causes, his head tilts to the side with childish, adorable fascination. “Yeah, I cut my palm.”

“Don’t move,” Chloe instructs him, immediately entering mother-hen-mode. He’s naked and barefoot, so she needs to get rid of the pieces of glass on the floor before he can get out, otherwise he might cut the soles of his feet, too.

After retrieving a broom from the closet along the hallway, she walks back into the bathroom and pushes the shards toward two separate corners on either side of the shower, leaving Lucifer space to step out and reach her. The angel stands up, ruffles his feathers to try and shrug off as much water as he can, and meets her in front of the vanity mirror. His wings stay out, but tucked close to his body: if he draws them back in now, as soaked as they are, his back will start to hurt.

“Let me see,” Chloe urges, cradling his injured hand in hers. When she sees that the cut isn’t too deep, she brings his palm under the faucet of the sink and simply washes the blood away, then playfully kisses the red line left behind.

“There. All better.”

Lucifer smiles faintly at her, looking almost troubled. She frowns.

“Hey, it’s not a big deal,” she reassures him, thinking it might be guilt. “You don’t have to feel bad.”

“Mm? Oh no, I wasn’t thinking about that, though I am very sorry for the… incident.” This time, the smile spreads and settles, and his eyes seem lost somewhere in the past. “I was actually realizing I cut myself in this exact same spot before. When I came to your mother’s house, and you told me I made you vulnerable… I don’t think I ever told you, but I was there precisely to figure out if you did the same to me. Had a knife hidden behind my back and all.”

It’s easy to put two and two together. “So when you said I made you vulnerable, too… you meant it literally.”

“I did.”

Chloe lightly traces the cut with the tip of her index finger, allowing herself to be fascinated all over again, too. It’s so crazy, the fact that something so real, so tangible, is nothing more than Lucifer’s subconscious at work. He wasn’t always weakened by her, after all. His growing affection for her eventually led him to literally feel defenseless in her presence. Or at least, that’s the theory they settled on in time.

“You've never even contemplated the possibility of staying away from me?” she finds herself asking, suddenly serious as she looks up at him. “To avoid this?”

Lucifer almost seems amused by the question. He shakes his head silently, then tells her, “Never. You know by now that when I left that one time, it was out of concern for your free will. Not _this_. I don’t care about this.”

It was silly to ask: of course she knew he would say this. She rewards him with a long, deep kiss, framing his face and pulling him closer until even his wings start to wrap around her, the droplets falling from his feathers making her shiver once they land on her back and arms.

“Sorry,” Lucifer chuckles, moving his wings away from her body. “Pesky things that they are.”

Chloe strokes one tenderly and smiles at the usual, probably involuntary half-humming half-purring sound Lucifer makes.

“They’re cute. And that was… kinda flattering, if I'm honest.”

Good luck explaining what happened to anyone who asks, but that is a concern for another day.

“Embarrassing is what that was,” Lucifer objects. His feathers puff up under her touch, signaling his outrage. “These are celestial weapons, Detective! Shining with the light of Heaven, glowing with the intensity of the wrath of God!”

She snorts. “Well, they succeeded in scaring the hell out of my shower, that’s for sure.”

Instead of taking offense as she expects, Lucifer bursts out laughing, and Chloe quickly follows. The wings shake in tandem with his shoulders, making even more drops rain on her, but after all, she had to take a shower before this whole mess. Speaking of…

“So… wanna take a bath instead?” she suggests, gesturing at the bathtub on the other side of the room. Lucifer pulls her closer, soaking her clothes with the water clinging to his very naked, suddenly very interested body.

“I would love that,” he murmurs, before starting to undress her, too. Once Chloe is naked as well, he walks her backwards toward the tub, and together they fill it with water and soap until the layer of foam is almost overflowing.

The space is not a lot, but even with the wings in the way (“They’re still not dry, so might as well wash them properly”), they make do. The two walls of feathers end up creating a barrier on either side of them, as they face each other from their respective corners. Their legs brush sweetly under the water, tracing curves and planes and intimate places, until the hunger in both of their gazes just needs to be sated; and so they meet in the middle, Chloe climbing in Lucifer’s lap, laughing and breathless.

That day, she forgets about the mayhem that is her bathroom, but one should never underestimate the damage a horny angel can cause.

  
  
_ What to do: _

_1\. “Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain”… with this one exception_

It’s not exactly professional to make out like a couple of hormonal teenagers on the passenger seat of the car, but it’s the middle of the night, there isn’t a single soul around, and the possibly incriminating meeting that was supposed to take place under the overpass above them was clearly cancelled or postponed.

This time, when Lucifer complained about how “it’s unfair how much time he’s forced to spend inside cars without doing the nasty”, Chloe decided to rise up to the challenge, because why the hell not? Plus, the startled noise he made when she simply looked at him, smirked and lunged toward him to straddle him was very satisfying.

“Clothes stay on,” she told him, because while this is something she can sweet-talk her way out of, she’s not going to risk getting caught _naked_ on the job, thank you very much. It’s already uncommon for her to have a partner she is in a romantic relationship with, but their solving rate (and whatever secret influence Lucifer has on the LAPD higher-ups) manages to keep them relatively protected from gossip and complaints.

Still, turns out that this was a fantasy Lucifer _really_ needed fulfilled, because despite her not even touching him, she can feel how much he’s liking it. The friction is not enough for her to… get anywhere, let’s say, but wrecking him like this, reducing someone who must have done and seen it all to a panting mess just by rolling her clothed hips against his, gives Chloe a sense of joy and power both.

Suddenly, she feels young again, reliving a time when make-out sessions were hurried moments between her mother checking in to ask if anyone wanted homemade cookies (terrible ones, but no one had the courage to tell her) and her father pointing out that the boy would have to go home soon, not so subtly hinting at the fact that he had overstayed his welcome. This isn’t quite the same, of course, but the thrill of possibly getting caught and the barrier of their clothes keeping a bit of mystery makes it all the more exciting.

“You’re so bloody hot,” Lucifer mumbles where he’s sucking quite the impressive hickey into the skin of her exposed collarbone, his fingers tightly clutching the fabric of her shirt. She’ll have to cover it with makeup tomorrow: another teenager-like thing she doesn’t really mind indulging in, the thought making her feel naughty and carefree and so deeply, thoroughly desired.

It’s true, it’s so true that he added something missing to her life. Chloe feels overwhelmed by it, swept away by the fondness she feels for him. In a moment of mercy, she pops open a few more buttons on her shirt, revealing just a _hint_ of her black bra. Lucifer makes a pleased sound at the sight, immediately batting her hand away to kiss along the edge of it, his hand cupping and squeezing.

Chloe tangles one hand in his hair and trails the other down his back, over a dark blue shirt that is getting more and more wrinkled by the second. When she shifts her hips to press closer, she feels the skin there _thrumming_, even through the fabric. It doesn’t click right away in her lust-fogged mind, but thankfully, she catches up soon enough.

Lucifer’s wings are about to pop out. In her car. Against her car _windows_.

“Lucifer?” she panicks, starting to pull away. “Maybe–maybe we should slow down, honey.”

He whines low in his throat, and even _that_ is sexy, damn him. “Why, darling? Aren’t we having fun?”

_Yeah, probably even too much._

He does something with his hips that makes her whimper, cutting off whatever she wanted to say, but in the meantime, Chloe can still feel _something_ rippling under her fingertips. Is he really too far gone to notice it himself? Most likely.

When she gets the feeling that “something” is definitely about to snap, she does the first thing that comes to her mind, the _one_ thing that Lucifer just can’t stand between the sheets or… the car door and the central console, in this case.

“Oh, _God_!” she moans exaggeratedly, throwing her head back as if in rapture.

Lucifer freezes on the spot. The rippling along his back stops. When he pulls back from her chest to look at her, the disappointment on his face makes her laugh.

“Well, that was uncalled for,” he pouts, sagging into the seat like a balloon slowly losing air. “Why did you do that?”

“It was _definitely_ called for,” Chloe replies, starting to button her shirt back up. “Or you want to tell me you would have a perfectly good explanation for my car windows bursting from the inside?”

Realization finally dawns on his stupidly handsome face, his lips closing in a small ‘O’. “You mean my wings were about to…”

“Yup.”

“I see.” He looks up and purses his lips in thought. “Actually, Maze told me it happened to Amenadiel once, but the glass only cracked.”

“Yeah, still not gonna let it happen, pal.”

Lucifer scoffs. “I see you have your priorities straight, Detective. Preventing property damage over the happiness of Big Ben right here.” He gestures at his crotch. “You evil woman.”

“Oh, shut up,” Chloe snaps, before kissing him again.

  
  
_2\. Banish the Devil with not-so-holy water_

Okay, this time, she will admit it’s her fault. She should have known better than to ask Lucifer to help her fold clothes in the laundry room while Trixie is out of the house: of course they would end up making out there. Lucifer has the ability to turn anything into an opportunity for that, even house chores.

Once again, the space is too tight, and Chloe is well aware but too distracted to acknowledge it. They keep bumping into things as they kiss; against the washing machine on one side and the dryer on the other, the basket containing the clothes yet to fold flying as if launched by a catapult once Lucifer’s elbow ends up on it. He laughs, she giggles, and it’s all very silly considering they have a decently sized bedroom waiting for them upstairs; but they’re here and neither of them wants to break the spell, so they don’t.

It’s disgustingly domestic but new at the same time: Chloe wonders what the old Lucifer would say, almost imagines him miniature-sized and perched on present-Lucifer's shoulder, a smaller Devil whispering in the Devil’s ear to knock some sense into him. What would the Prince of Darkness think of heated, stolen kisses among mismatched socks, girly T-shirts and unicorn-patterned pyjamas? She can’t be sure, but the angel in her arms doesn’t seem to care and she decides she shouldn’t either.

Emboldened, Chloe presses him against the washing machine, the upper edge of it digging into the small of his back. Her hands make quick work of his purple shirt's buttons as she trails kisses down his chest, following a path of freckles that, she has decided, must somehow mirror one of the constellations he put in the sky. The line dips into the hollow between his sharp collarbones and he sucks in a breath when Chloe swirls her tongue there, before going lower and lower until she ends up kneeling on the floor.

“_Detective,_” Lucifer sighs, halfway between reverent and playful, watching her with bright, soulful eyes as she draws down the zipper of his pants. She finds him naked (of course) and wanting (of course), but stalls when a tell-tale movement of his shoulders, almost as if they’re itching, catches her attention.

Could his wings burst through the walls? There isn’t enough space here for them to unfurl at their full wingspan, and after she had to plaster the wall of the living room because of Trixie and Maze’s latest knife-throwing class, Chloe doesn’t look forward to any more holes to fill.

In the _walls_, that is. Oh no, that’s exactly the kind of joke _Lucifer_ would make. She’s been corrupted by Satan and his terrible puns, it’s official: her soul is fine, but her sense of humor is now beyond saving.

“No, no, no, don’t even think about it!” she yelps as she pulls back, but Lucifer's face is scrunching up and the only thing she can see that might ruin his amorous mood is…

Oh. Well, needs must, as they say.

From a low shelf right next to the washing machine, she grabs the bottle she uses to spray moisture on heavily wrinkled clothes before ironing them. For a brief moment, she considers spraying water… you know, _there_, but decides to be merciful and stands up instead. Spraying it directly on his face turns out to be just as effective: Lucifer sputters and blinks rapidly, then blindly swats at the spray bottle and makes it fly away from her hand, but the mission has clearly been accomplished.

Chloe covers her mouth with her hands and laughs. “I'm sorry, I didn’t know what else to do this time!” she giggles as Lucifer brushes a hand over his face to collect the drops clinging to his skin, beard and eyebrows. “I wasn’t sure your Father’s name was going to work again, you seemed… _so_ into it.”

He zips his pants back up and sighs. “Alright, it’s settled: no more naughty business in small spaces,” he announces. “’Cause if next time you run out of ideas, Dad knows what you'll do to my nether bits to literally _wing-block_ me, and I for one have no interest in finding out.”

  
  
_3\. Enjoy the wings from the very beginning (smart, huh?)_

The penthouse is big, and is (now) locked, and there is no reason to worry about Lucifer’s wings breaking stuff because he has all the space he needs to keep them out from the start. His chest is bare, while Chloe is still wearing her bra, her shirt left open for him to explore with hands and lips while she straddles him on the couch.

It’s a scene reminiscent of a certain, distant dream, but instead of scars Chloe’s hands find feathers, and she’s pretty sure no horns will magically sprout from her boyfriend’s forehead. Not that she would mind, but let’s not go there.

This is quickly becoming one of her favorite things: just spending an indefinite amount of time with her fingers buried in white, glowing feathers to experiment and discover all the reactions she can cause. Not that the _other_ wings are any less sensitive, mind: when Lucifer has one of his “bad days”, her hands stroke veiny membranes and wickedly sharp claws instead, but the man sitting under her groans and shudders just the same, if not more.

But he’s happy today, all easy smiles and easier laughs, and her attentions are not given to distract him but to show him, quite simply, that he is loved. In a way, Chloe might need it even more than he does, because in her mind, they are still making up for lost time. Frankly, she’s not sure when or if she’ll ever feel like they’re even.

She kisses his lips, his cheeks, his eyelids, that spot under his chin where a sword from another world left a scar he doesn’t like to show. When she pulls back, Lucifer seizes the moment and takes the lead, pouring the same care into kissing the bullet mark left on her skin when they solved their very first case together.

It’s a gentle rediscovering of things they already know, places they’ve already seen, moments they’ve already lived. It’s their way of saying _I remember. I haven’t forgotten. I never will_.

“Chloe,” Lucifer sighs, which means nothing in itself, but many things, too. She kisses his hair as his wings close around them, overlapping at different angles to effectively take the shape of a hollow semi-sphere with them hidden inside: a snowball with no snow, a dome with no saints, a canopy of leaves that will never turn yellow and wither away.

When the elevator dings and opens, Chloe doesn’t immediately notice. She will realize it only a moment later, upon hearing the voice of the person who just stepped in.

“Before you both yell at me, guys, please know that there was a break in the case and–what the _fuck_?!”

Inside the cocoon created by Lucifer’s wings – because they’re there, the cat is out of the bag, it’s _over_ –, Chloe closes her eyes and inhales sharply through her nose.

“Lucifer,” she whispers, “what did you use as a password to access the elevator?”

He swallows, then smiles apologetically. “Why, your birthday, of course, Detective.”

Right. _Of course_. Basically, the first thing anyone who knows them would try to type in. Chloe would find it extremely cute, romantic and endearing, except for the fact that they just got screwed over by how monumentally dumb it was.

When Lucifer lifts one of his wings to look toward the entrance, they find Dan staring back at them, mouth comically open and eyes wide.

“Hello, douche,” Lucifer greets him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A cliffhanger? In this story? 😱 But don’t worry, next chapter will deal precisely with the aftermath of this reveal. What could go wrong? 🤔


	15. How to… handle identity reveals (a.k.a. your ex-husband freaking the f*** out)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s hard to keep your boyfriend and ex-husband on speaking terms when one is the Devil and the other just found out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another super long chapter, and a bit angstier than usual. Fluff lovers be warned!

“Hello, douche.”

Lucifer’s words are the only sound breaking the stillness of this moment, one Chloe was absolutely not looking forward to. There is a reason why Dan has been kept in the dark, unlike most of the other close people in her life: that reason being, finding out Lucifer’s identity might shatter the fragile balance the two men have finally settled in once again, also thanks to Dan's sessions with Linda (bless that woman, seriously).

So, well… time to see if Chloe’s fears were justified, it seems.

Dan's eyes are moving frantically between them, from Chloe, to Lucifer, to Lucifer’s wings. Chloe hastily buttons up her open shirt to cover her exposed chest (not that it’s anything new to Dan, they have a child together, but still, _awkward_) and stands up from Lucifer’s lap, palms up in an attempt to calm Dan down before he screams or faints or runs.

“Dan… Dan, it’s okay,” she tries, slowly walking toward him. In the meantime, she recognizes the whoosh of air that signals Lucifer’s wings disappearing from this plane of existence, but even without it, the way Dan startles and gapes in her boyfriend’s direction would give it away. She briefly considered lying and making something up about fake cosplay wings, but it’s definitely too late now.

“How… How did you…” Dan stammers, but as his face scrunches up, he switches to a different question altogether. “What are those? What are _you_?”

Chloe watches as Lucifer, not even bothering with putting his shirt back on, sighs and walks to the bar in the corner. “What did they look like to you, Daniel?” he asks as he fetches a decanter and two tumblers from behind the raised surface. “Those are angel wings, and I am, as I have told you lot _repeatedly_, the bloody Devil. By the way, next time the Detective miraculously doesn’t answer her phone, please assume she’s in my lovely company, sounds good? ‘Cause wings or no wings, a few more minutes and you would have stumbled upon quite the show, believe me.”

Chloe pinches the bridge of her nose. She’s not sure this is the right way to go about this, with smugness of all things, so she firmly keeps an eye on Dan to judge his reaction and act accordingly.

In response to Lucifer’s words (or better, the only words he seems to have registered), Dan whispers, “So it’s true. It’s _all_ true.”

“Oh, brother, here we go.” Lucifer finishes pouring whiskey in the glasses he set on the bar and picks them up to approach the man at the entrance. “Daniel, let me save you the trouble, alright? Before you book yourself a plane ticket to Rome and we all end up starring in _Vatican Investigator: The Reboot_.” He reaches out, offering Dan one of the tumblers. “Here, have a drink, come sit with us, and together we can discuss whatever you–”

“Stay away from me!” Dan shouts. He crosses himself multiple times, jumping back and away from Lucifer’s outstretched arm as if he just got burnt by his mere proximity. Lucifer flinches, clenches his jaw and steps back, quickly hiding the hurt in his eyes with a mask of stoic coldness. Not quickly enough though, not for Chloe at least. She knows it stung. A lot.

“As you wish.”

Lucifer walks back to the bar and sits on one of the stools, his expression as hard as stone. “Hope this is far enough for you,” he snaps, but then his attitude falters, betrayed by his clear desire to make this easier for Dan. “Or shall I leave while you two…?”

“I'll go,” Dan replies, walking backwards until his back hits the closed doors of the elevator. Without looking, he pushes the button to open them, steps in and adds, “I–I can’t be here.”

“Dan,” Chloe calls him weakly, “please, stay.”

Something like anger flashes in her ex-husband's gaze: a sense of betrayal as he realizes that she has been voluntarily hiding this from him. His jaw clenched, Dan shakes his head at her as the metal doors close from either side, leaving her with the image of his furious, tear-filled eyes before he disappears from view.

But she can’t let him go, she decides even as the elevator starts its descent to the bottom of the building. Isolation is precisely what led her to make the mistakes she made, what contributed to how easily she was manipulated into believing lies and falsehoods about the Devil. She can’t let Dan spiral into a whirlwind of fear and doubt like she did: it wouldn’t be fair to him, and it wouldn’t be fair to Lucifer. He might have been joking, but there was genuine concern behind his words when he mentioned a possible second trip to Rome.

Chloe has to fix this, and she will.

“You should go after him,” Lucifer’s voice cuts through her thoughts, echoing them. She turns around to look at him, and finds him staring at the ground. “He shouldn’t be alone right now.”

_And neither should you_, she thinks, she _knows_, but she has to make a choice.

“I'll be back as soon as I can,” she promises, but Lucifer doesn’t seem to hear her as he turns on the stool, toward the shelved wall of the bar, and sips on his whiskey in silence.

As quickly as she can, Chloe puts on her shoes and coat and retrieves her bag to leave. Before walking to the elevator, she reaches Lucifer from behind and makes to place a hand on his back, but a sudden flinch – no, more like a _ripple_ under his skin – gives her pause.

This time, she knows it’s not arousal, but something much darker.

Devil wings. Devil wings that just manifested “inside him”, taking the place of angel feathers as a mirror for the rejection he just felt. He told her once that he used to need to look to know, but in time, probably thanks to therapy, he has become more aware of it – and so has she.

“Lucifer,” she whispers, cupping his cheek to get him to turn and face her. He does, but refuses to meet her eyes. “Lucifer, I'll take care of it.”

Lucifer smiles, though it looks hollow of any real joy, then takes her hand and kisses it softly.

“I know you'll try,” he replies, but it’s not enough. Chloe puts her index finger under his chin and makes him lift his face.

“Don't you trust me?”

He scoffs. “Darling, of course I do. But this isn’t just about you, is it?”

“You’re right, it’s not. But I'm on it. And you can bet your angelic ass I will do whatever I can to help him understand.”

Lucifer laughs, as she hoped he would. His expression softens as he brushes a few locks of hair away from her face. Chloe glimpses a patch of red skin on the back of his hand, but doesn’t know if he’s noticed; regardless, she keeps her mouth shut.

“The Detective is on the case,” the Devil muses, a small grin stretching his lips – that’s something, at least. “Good luck to whoever stands in her way.”

“Exactly.”

Chloe cups his face in both of her hands and kisses him, then heads out of the penthouse and into the unknown, so to speak.

She’s a woman on a mission, but this time, she’s on the Devil’s side.

  
  
_ What to do: _

_1\. Discourage possible exorcism attempts_

Given the time she has wasted before taking the elevator, Chloe is sure she’ll have to track down Dan all the way to his house, the station or wherever else he decided to go to deal with his spiritual crisis (hopefully not the airport, that would be too impulsive… right?). Instead, which is frankly quite lucky, when she steps into the underground parking space of Lux she spots him inside his car, forehead pressed against the steering wheel and eyes closed, breathing harshly.

As not to startle him by knocking against the window, Chloe walks around the front of the car in the hopes that Dan will detect her movements and look up. When he does, he still seems angry, but at the questioning expression on her face, he sighs and unlocks the doors to let her in.

Chloe climbs into the passenger seat next to him and closes the door behind her. She doesn’t fail to notice that Dan locks it again immediately, but doesn’t have the heart to tell him that such a defense is basically useless when it comes to Lucifer. At the moment, the idea that Satan in the flesh could let himself into his car or residence wouldn’t be of help.

Despite her resolve, she realizes she doesn’t really know how to start this conversation. But thankfully, Dan beats her to it.

“How long… how long have you known?” he asks her, gripping the steering wheel tightly as some sort of anchor to hold on to.

“Since the day Pierce died,” Chloe answers with ease, though the memory is not one she welcomes. “Lucifer used his wings to shield me, before he took me away to safety.”

She fails to mention that, in her case, she didn’t find out because of the wings at all. Again, she needs to be very careful about what she shares, when and how. This is yet another way Lucifer has rubbed off on her, with his “never lying but also not really telling the whole truth” schtick. Oh well.

“His wings,” Dan repeats, swallowing audibly. “Right, those. Because he’s…”

“An angel.”

“A _fallen_ angel,” Dan corrects her, voice a bit surer, almost stern. “Cast out of Heaven, just like he has been reminding us since day one. That’s all true, too, isn’t it?”

Chloe doesn’t like the accusation or judgement in his words, but reminds herself that she needs to be as patient and understanding as possible here. She can forgive him his instinctive reaction back at the penthouse and even this momentary suspicion, if he’s willing to listen to her and talk this out calmly.

“Yes, that is what happened, though I’m sure he and God have very different versions of what exactly went down between them.”

Understandably, at the casual mention of God as a _very_ real entity, Dan pales visibly. To be fair, that’s one of the things Chloe successfully keeps locked in the far recesses of her mind not to dwell on the fact that, in a way, God is a member of her family now.

The panic caused by the idea of _Him_ leads Dan to change the topic, which is for the best.

“And you two… I mean, you guys…” He gestures at her vaguely, but Chloe gets what he means. After all, he just found her making out with Lucifer with _his wings out in the open_: he’s allowed to lack words, ‘cause that must have been quite the sight.

“Yes, we sleep together. We _are_ together.”

“_How?_ If it’s all real… what does it mean for you? You know, for your… soul?”

Ouch. Well, here it is. But she can do this: she just needs to ignore his tone, forgive his assumptions and remember that he has the right to be initially shocked, misguided and even offensive in a certain measure. It’s her job to help him through it and set the record straight. She wishes someone would have done it for her back then, too, but not seeking help among the people she knew was entirely on her.

“Lucifer doesn’t _deal_ in souls. It doesn’t work like that, it’s just a myth.” She smiles, hoping with everything she has that Dan will understand. “I love him, Dan. And he loves me. We have been through so much together, and he has done so much for me. He’s the same person you have always known, just with… additional baggage, let’s say?”

Dan chuckles bitterly, then rakes a hand through his hair. “Additional baggage? Are you kidding me, Chloe? You should have called an exorcist the moment you found out, not _get together with him_.”

Double ouch. “Yeah, that didn’t… work out great,” she reveals through gritted teeth. Dan looks up at her in surprise.

“Wait, you mean you _did_?”

“Yes.” Chloe eyes him with sudden intensity. “And I need you to promise me you won’t do anything like that.”

Dan raises his eyebrows. “You know I am a religious person, Chlo. Well, sort of. I started going to church again recently, and you can’t stop me from seeking guidance if I need it.”

“Well, I know not all priests are the same, but my experience wasn’t a positive one, let’s leave it at that.”

Chloe’s mind drifts back to Father Frank for a moment – now _he_ was someone who would have probably understood. Still, how many like him are there? She just can’t risk it.

“If this reaches the wrong ears, they… they will try to hurt him, Dan. Please, I need you to trust me on this. You’re not alone, you can talk to _me_ or–or Ella! She is religious too, she will be able to help!”

“Holy shit, Ella knows, too?”

“Yeah, has for a while now. And you’re friends with Amenadiel! Linda is your therapist! There are so many people in the know that you can count on.”

Including Maze and Trixie, but… best not to open that can of worms just yet.

Dan gapes at her in shock, then brushes a hand over his forehead. “Wow, I feel _really_ dumb now. And Linda, really? How impartial do you think she will be? As a matter of fact, maybe I should find myself another therapist altogether. You know, one who doesn’t have _him_ on her payroll, too.”

Chloe crosses her arms over her chest. “Right, I'm sure you’ll easily find someone willing to believe you’re struggling with the discovery that your ex-wife is dating the Devil. That won’t raise any eyebrows whatsoever.”

Dan throws his arms in the air, exasperated. “Is there _anything_ I am allowed to do here, Chloe? Anything at all beside giving you my blessing to hang out with Evil incarnate? Hell, my blessing for him to hang out with my _daughter_?” This last realization makes him angrier. “You didn’t let me have a say in this, even though I deserved it. So now, I will deal with it in any way I see fit.”

Chloe freezes. He didn’t really go there, but… suddenly, she sees a battle for exclusive custody in her near future, and although she doesn’t think he would necessarily win it, the thought of causing such a disruption in Trixie's life sickens her. But Trixie might indeed turn out to be the core of the matter for him, if he decides Lucifer is not worthy of trust.

Now, as a parent, Dan has every right to voice concerns about the people in Trixie’s life, but the thing is… he never has, before. And it’s not like he doesn’t know stuff. He knows Lucifer grants deals to (more often than not) people of questionable morals; knows about all the times he has reduced suspects and criminals to whimpering messes, although he’s not aware of the reason. He knows that Maze trains Trixie in knife-throwing and fighting, and that she’s a bounty hunter with a clear enthusiasm for violence.

What he _doesn’t_ know? Precisely all the _good_ things Lucifer has done, for Chloe and Trixie both. She decides it could be a good way to try and soften him, especially since their daughter’s safety seems to be his immediate concern.

“Do you remember when Malcolm took Trixie?” she asks, but rephrases it when Dan’s face twists with anguish and guilt at the fact that he was not there to help her when it happened. “I mean, when I _told_ you he had, after everything was solved. What I didn’t tell you is… Lucifer didn’t just _distract_ Malcolm so I could have a good shot. He took a bullet to the gut that day. He _died_.”

Dan tilts his head to the side. “But he’s alive now. And if he’s the Devil, he can’t die, right? Or so I have always thought. Then again, I never imagined him as an actual _dude_, so what do I know! I mean, that’s fine. Totally normal. The Devil is a guy, and he’s British, and works for the LAPD. What the actual fuck, Chloe?!”

Right. Well, at least he's venting. But given his current freak-out, Chloe doesn’t think it’s time to drop more celestial notions on him yet, so she stays vague and doesn’t mention exactly _what_ made Lucifer’s death possible. A lesson about the laws of the supernatural world can wait.

“It’s… well, it’s complicated. But the point is, he died and came back to life. And if it hadn’t been for him, Malcolm probably would have killed us both, Dan. I told him not to come, I made him _promise_, and he still did. That’s who Lucifer is, for me _and_ Trixie. He’d rather die than let anything happen to us. I mean, think of what went down at the penthouse with Tiernan's men.”

Dan pales. Chloe figures he doesn’t like the reminder of what was probably one of the scariest nights of their lives.

“Y-yeah. He stopped them, I remember. But I mean, they were breaking into his home, threatening his girlfriend. Of course he would.”

Despite the stubborn denial, Chloe feels like this angle is leading to a bit of progress. Some of the fight is draining out of Dan, now.

“Tell me something,” she says firmly. “No matter your feelings about him now that you know… do you think _I_ would be with someone who could even _think_ of harming Trixie? Is that the idea you have of me?”

Dan grows agitated, clearly feeling cornered. Which is when, usually, he lashes out (just like Lucifer – notice a pattern there?).

“Of course I don’t think that of you, but–but it’s not that simple, is it? It’s not like people like or want to be with dangerous or violent partners! Maybe–maybe he tricked you, or forced you into–”

“_Don’t_.” This nonsense, she will not allow. “Don’t even _try_ to go there.”

Her outrage seems to make him feel chastised. Good.

“Okay, I'm sorry, that was uncalled for.” He sighs deeply, suddenly looking very tired. “It’s just… my _God_, Chloe, it’s too much. It’s just too much.”

Seeing an opening, Chloe gently places a hand on his shoulder. “It is,” she agrees. “It’s a lot to process, and when it was my turn, I did everything wrong. I… I hurt him so much, Dan. I didn’t even give him a chance. I just don’t want you to make the same mistake, focusing on all the bad things you know or think you know. There is more to it than that. There is more to _him_ than that.”

Dan chuckles, but the sound seems less bitter than before. More like dumbfounded.

“Man, you really do love him. Satan. The Devil. _The_ Lucifer.”

She shrugs and smiles at him. “Guilty as charged.”

“Well, fuck.”

“Indeed.”

A moment of silence settles between them, but Chloe welcomes it. She watches attentively as Dan ponders everything she’s told him.

“Tell you what,” he says eventually. “Let’s make a deal.”

“How devilish of you,” she jokes, eliciting a small laugh out of him – a small victory, no doubt.

“I promise I won’t do anything… stupid. I won’t talk about this with anyone who doesn’t already know. But in return… I don’t want him to see Trixie until I have figured out what to do about this.” At her sharp intake of breath, he grows more serious. “It’s not an unreasonable request, Chloe, you know it isn’t. It’s nothing compared to what you’re telling me to accept. Come on, you gotta give me _something_ here.”

And, well, he’s right. She doesn’t like it, and doesn’t look forward to when she’ll have to inform both Trixie and Lucifer about it, but it’s true that she can give him this one thing if he really needs it to feel better. Still, it hurts that it has to come to this.

“Fine. We have a deal,” she concedes. “In the meantime, I am here for any question you might have, and so is Lucifer, actually. He was very open with me when I returned from Europe. You could… come back up to the penthouse with me, if you want? To talk to him?”

But Dan shakes his head vehemently. “No, I think I need… distance. You’re right though, it won’t hurt to talk to others. Ella, maybe Amenadiel.” Something seems to click in his mind, suddenly. “He… he said something once, about Charlotte, and it makes so much more sense now. I think it will be good to have a chat with him.”

Something about her being in Heaven, Chloe presumes, remembering the conversation she once had with Amenadiel about her dad. Lucifer’s brother has such a soothing presence: this might actually be the best choice of all. If Dan really considers himself religious, he will listen to what an angel has to say – an angel not burdened with the stereotypes and misconceptions that follow Lucifer by definition, that is.

Besides, now that she thinks about it, there is a good chance Lucifer’s brooding led to a full Devil-relapse up there, which wouldn’t be helpful at all. It’s better to get back to him by herself, definitely.

“Thank you, Dan, for keeping an open mind.” She places her hand on one of his on the steering wheel. “Now come on, tell me about that break in the case.”

_And pray it was_ really _worth all this trouble._

  
  
_2\. Fix eventual misunderstandings_

“He said he needs space, so let him be the one to approach you, otherwise just… leave him be, I guess.”

“Message received, Detective, loud and clear.”

It’s obvious that Dan's reaction affected Lucifer greatly, because true to his word, he does as instructed. They enter the precinct together and go about their day as if nothing happened, but the difference in Lucifer’s demeanor is unmistakable: there is no missing the way he makes himself… smaller, somehow. Less enthusiastic, less loud, less chatty; less Lucifer, more puppy trailing after her with its head low after having been punished for stealing food off the kitchen counter.

Dan casts nervous glances his way every now and then, but aside from that, there is no interaction between the two. Long gone are the days of fanboying over terrible action movies, slapping each other on the ass with case folders, bickering over stolen pudding like two teenage brothers or roommates sharing a fridge. Then again, they were gone even before this, mostly ever since Charlotte died.

Chloe misses those days. She doesn’t miss how oblivious she was, but sometimes, in retrospect, they seem easier in her memories. Lighter. Normal. On a day-to-day basis, she doesn’t mind Lucifer’s… otherness, but dealing with Dan finding out is making her relive her own reaction, which is something she hates.

On top of that, she’s pretty sure _Lucifer_ is reliving it, too. The way Dan shouted in fear, the way he crossed himself out of instinct… it’s hard not to draw a parallel with Chloe taking one step back after the other until her feet hit the bottom of the loft's stairs, or with her infamous _Because I'm terrified!_ admission.

It’s true that Dan's opinion doesn’t matter as much to Lucifer, but still… being told she will be the one visiting him at the penthouse for the foreseeable future clearly upset him, though he did his best to hide it. (Same for Maze: her being a demon only registered later for Dan, but once it did, Chloe had to ask her to stay at one of Lucifer’s many mansions for a while.)

But at the end of the day, it was bound to happen eventually: they just ripped the band aid unexpectedly or, well, someone else ripped it for them. Years down the line, assuming they are still together, Lucifer’s young appearance will start to draw suspicion. It’s what Chloe tells herself to feel better: hiding this from Dan for longer might have angered him even more.

The next few days at work go by uneventfully, much like the first. Lucifer leaves Dan space, Dan doesn’t make any move to tell him to do otherwise. It’s an impasse, a stalemate, but hey, still better than priests and poison vials, so Chloe will take it.

Then, all of a sudden, Dan stops at her desk and looks at Lucifer sitting across from her, eyes wide and… hopeful?

“I, uhm… I brought you these. I know you like them a lot,” he says, before showing the hands he was hiding behind his back.

In his palms, he’s holding a plethora of candy bars, sweet and salty snacks and small bags of chips, which he deposits on the desk and slowly pushes toward Lucifer. They all come from the vending machine, and they really are Lucifer’s favorites: how Dan managed to find out or remember, it’s a mystery, but the genuine effort behind it warms Chloe’s heart and gives her hope.

“Oh!” Even Lucifer seems surprised by the peace offering, as he gathers the snacks in his lap like a kid who just went trick-or-treating and doesn’t want to be separated from his bounty. “Thank you, Daniel, I–I really appreciate the gesture.”

“You’re welcome, Luci–I mean, _can_ I call you that? Is there another name you prefer, a title?”

Chloe furrows her brow in confusion. What is going on here?

But of course, Lucifer just shrugs, too focused on tearing into the first package he was gifted (damn his nonexistent attention span) and probably too relieved by Dan's sudden – _too_ sudden – change of heart.

“Oh, you’re a darling, but no, ‘Lucifer’ suits me just fine.” He glances up at Dan hesitantly, then adds, “I used to go by ‘my King’ or ‘my Lord’ down below, but you’re no demon, Daniel. That certainly won’t be necessary.”

“G-good. Yeah. That’s good,” Dan agrees, before taking his leave with a little… bow? Okay, what the hell?

Chloe watches him go with narrowed eyes, then turns back to her partner. “Lucifer, something is wrong.”

“What do you mean?” he replies, words muffled by his chewing as he devours the first of the caramel and chocolate bars he received. “Seems to me like it all turned out just _peachy_, Detective.”

She shoots metaphorical daggers at him (those can’t hurt him in her presence, at least), then counters, “Yeah, of course you would say that. He didn’t seem too… _servile_ to you? Too polite?” _Almost afraid_, she thinks, but avoids saying.

“I guess it was his way of burying the hatchet, that’s all. I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, dear, especially when it’s this bloody delicious! Your little chat with the douche must have done wonders, you should be proud.”

Chloe sighs, taking a moment to think. Could it really be just that? Is she too paranoid? Or maybe Dan is indeed scared of Lucifer, but she just needs to give it time and it will pass. In the end, she decides to wait and see: there isn’t enough evidence to press charges, so to speak.

But in time, the evidence starts to pile up. Coffee orders delivered to Lucifer first thing in the morning – _already_ spiked with alcohol –, Dan dragging the chair back for Lucifer to sit, opening the car door for him when he leaves, offering to help with paperwork _specifically_ so Lucifer doesn’t have to… Yeah, something is _definitely_ wrong.

Why is her ex-husband trying to suck up to Satan?

She snaps when the blatant attempts at keeping Lucifer happy veer into unprofessional territory. That is, when she enters Ella’s lab (while the woman in question is absent) and finds Dan handing Lucifer a proverbial brick of cocaine like it’s no big deal.

“Daniel, how very kind! I know you all look the other way when I'm in a snowy mood, as it were, but this is splendid! Goodness, I would have showed you my wings sooner if I had known they would make you this amicable towards me!”

Chloe walks up to them just as Lucifer slips it under his jacket. Truth is, she has always known Lucifer does this, and has been ignoring it in light of the fact that much worse goes on in the department (let’s be honest, Palmetto certainly didn’t solve the corruption that plagues the LAPD all the way to the top) and because Lucifer feeds an addiction that, thanks to his supernatural metabolism, is ultimately harmless to his health. All this, of course, doesn’t mean she can allow _Dan_ to think he _has to_, or something.

The man in question stuffs his hands into his pockets and awkwardly rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“You–you will remember all this, right? You know, when it’s… time?” he asks, eagerly waiting for a positive response, and alarm bells start ringing in Chloe’s head. When it’s time? What time?

“Oh, you want a favor in return?” Lucifer replies, but still, Chloe doesn’t think that’s what’s happening here. “Of course, Daniel, that’s my specialty! Just say the word, and you can consider it done!”

The look of confusion and disappointment on Dan’s face isn’t at all reassuring. Chloe watches him leave the lab with a worried expression, which can’t be too different from the one on her own face.

“Lucifer, I don’t like this. I don’t know exactly what is going on here, but it’s clear that Dan feels compelled to… please you. You need to go talk to him and figure out why.”

When all she gets in response is silence, she turns around to find Lucifer peering into one of Ella’s microscopes with way more enthusiasm than any blood sample is worth.

She snaps her fingers in the air, irritated. “Lucifer!”

He blinks up at her, a perfect picture of innocence. “Oh, you mean _now_?”

“Yes, of course I mean now!”

The Devil sighs exaggeratedly, straightening up and away from the forensic tool. “Very well,” he sulks. “Though I must admit, out of all the possible developments I envisioned, I was really starting to enjoy this one.”

“Yeah, I'm sure you were.”

Chloe opens the door for him, and once he’s out of the cubicle, trails after him as they walk toward Dan's desk, placed near the stairs at the other end of the bullpen.

“Are you sure this can’t wait?” Lucifer mutters, a big grin on his face as he silently greets unis passing him by. “Just a few more days, is all. A week at best!”

“Yes, I'm sure.”

“Ugh, _fine_.”

They both stop near the desk. Lucifer adjusts his cufflinks, trying to buy himself time. Chloe elbows him in the ribs and puts a stop to it immediately.

“_Ow_.”

Lucifer scowls at her from the side, then clears his throat and looks at Dan just as the man turns on his chair to acknowledge their presence.

“So, Daniel… it has come to my attention that you seem to have drawn the wrong conclusions here, though I am not sure what they are, exactly. The Detective–I mean _we_ are worried you might think you have to… appease me, for whatever reason, and we certainly… don’t… want that.” He glances her way and confirms, “Nope. No, we do not.”

Dan worries his hands in his lap nervously, uncharacteristically chastised. At least with Lucifer, he has never liked to show himself as weak or inferior. That’s also why this whole thing doesn’t sit right with Chloe: aside from his acceptance of Lucifer, she wishes for his behavior to remain the same, not change because of what he now knows. She wants things to go back to the way they were.

“Well, I just thought… since you are who you are… don’t you have a say in… things?”

Lucifer’s brow furrows. “What things?”

Dan seems to hate the fact that he has to say it, his expression almost pained. “You know… damnation. The whole Hell thing. You’re the Devil, and I… I have a lot to atone for.”

“Oh, Daniel.” Lucifer’s face twists in a mix between apologetic and compassionate, all glee forgotten. “I'm afraid that’s not how it works.”

“It isn’t?”

Lucifer shakes his head. Chloe thought he would take offense, but to his credit, he mostly seems sorry he can’t help Dan as the man assumed.

“I don’t have a say in where human souls end up. That’s all you. Guilt drags you mortals down to Hell, if you feel like you deserve to be there.”

At the word “souls”, Chloe realizes she might be partially to blame for this terrible misunderstanding. When she told Dan that Lucifer doesn’t deal in souls, she was talking about hers, as in “the Devil doesn’t accept them as payment, or doesn’t actively seduce people to take them”. But damnation? She was never clear about that, about the role Lucifer plays _after_ humans die.

And apparently, the issue didn’t come up with Ella or Amenadiel (or whoever Dan talked to), either. The poor guy was convinced he could bribe his way out of Hell, and the fact that he’s sure he’ll otherwise end up there breaks her heart. If Dan harbors guilt in his soul, what can be done to help him?

Well. There is _one_ thing that has helped Lucifer with his self-loathing so far. Can’t hurt to try.

  
  
_3\. Have them work through their issues together (only to promptly get sucked into them)_

“Is this really necessary?” Lucifer squirms on Linda’s couch, which at this point probably has an indentation in the shape of the Devil’s butt. “I'm sure there’s nothing a casual drink between bros can’t solve! Fantasy football, perhaps? No? X-box gaming session? A bit of harmless, consensual BDSM fun?”

Chloe smiles tightly in Linda’s direction while sitting between Lucifer and Dan, her panicky boyfriend’s hand clutched in her own. Why is she here, again? Right, to support both of them. Jesus, how does Linda do this without having a permanent headache?

“While all those seem… _interesting_ choices for further attempts at bonding, Lucifer, I genuinely believe it’s time for you and Dan to have an open and honest conversation about what you feel and think of each other,” the therapist replies, legs crossed in front of her with her customary notepad in her lap. “Given what _both_ of you have been sharing with me, and in light of recent events, Chloe and I agreed that a group session was in order. We’ll start with you, Dan, if that’s okay? I would like you to tell Lucifer how your discovery made you – well, makes you – feel, and I would like Lucifer to just listen for the time being.”

“Alright. I can do that,” Lucifer agrees, settling more comfortably on the couch.

Chloe barely stops herself from snorting. _Since when?_

“Okay, here goes.” Dan clears his throat, then turns to Lucifer. “I am having a hard time dealing with it all, but Ella and Amenadiel have been very helpful so far. I even started texting Maze again, though she’s kinda pissed at me about Trixie. Anyway… point is, the ‘supernatural stuff’?” He makes air quotes at that, then continues, “I'm coming to terms with it, sort of. Don’t get me wrong, it freaks the hell out of me that you have _wings_ and all that, but… okay, cool, I guess. At least now I know you’re not as batshit crazy as I thought you were.”

“Thanks?” Lucifer says, but Chloe doesn’t feel like reprimanding him for speaking when it’s such a small comment, all things considered.

Dan ignores him and goes on. “What makes me real mad though? The _lying_, dude. _Again_. I know it was wrong to pin Charlotte’s death on you, but I still believe you should have led with the Sinnerman story, that you should have told us about Pierce the moment you found out. And just when I am trying to move on from it, I find out you have been hiding this from me, too? I just–”

“Excuse you!” Lucifer cuts him off, bristling. “Hiding? Lying? All I ever do is _tell_ you who I am!”

“Lucifer, let him finish,” Chloe tells him softly this time, but Linda gestures at her that it’s okay, palm up in a soothing motion.

“Lucifer, we have been over this,” she addresses him gently. “It’s true that you are an open book about your identity, but it’s also true that people, by default, do not believe you, and that you _choose_ to withhold definitive proof of it for… reasons. To protect them, certainly, but also to protect yourself. Do you agree with this statement?”

He sighs. “Yes, doctor.”

“Good.” Linda smiles, justifiably proud of herself. What a marvellous thing to have _Lucifer_ leave you the last word: Chloe understands the rush. “So, following this reasoning, I think we can say that Dan feels like you have purposefully chosen not to give him all the information that was needed. Correct, Dan?”

“Yes,” the other man agrees, and wow, how must this feel? _Both_ of them so tame and _reasonable_? Okay, Chloe is starting to see the appeal of the job.

“You can continue then, if there is more you want to say,” Linda encourages Dan.

“Well, I guess what it all comes down to is… how can I trust you, man?” Dan’s eyes turn pleading, mirroring the hurt in his voice. Suddenly, Chloe has the distinct impression to be witnessing a married couple in therapy, which is… weird, but she’s been through weirder. “How can I trust you to be in my life, in my _daughter’s_ life, when the truth is I don’t know you at all?”

After a brief pause, Linda gestures at Lucifer, signaling that he’s allowed to answer now. Chloe squeezes his hand to offer comfort before he starts.

“My dear Daniel, but you _do_ know me,” he says, offering a small, vulnerable smile that tugs at Chloe’s heartstrings. “Me being the Devil, it’s… it’s who I am, certainly, but in the same way you and the Detective are cops. It’s what I do – well, mostly _did_ now – but… I don’t want it to be the only thing defining me. And I think that’s the reason why I say it, but don’t go out of my way to prove it. Because once people know it… suddenly, it’s the only thing they focus on.”

And ain’t that the truth. Chloe is perfectly aware she only served to reinforce this notion in his mind. Her thumb starts stroking the side of Lucifer’s hand, hoping he will somehow get the meaning behind it. _I'm sorry._

“So, to answer your question,” Lucifer continues, “you _can_ trust me, because I have always been honest about who I am, all devilishness aside.”

His hand squeezes Chloe’s harder, suddenly. “This being said… you’re right, Daniel. I should have done things differently in regard to the Sinnerman, for everyone’s sake, Charlotte’s included. I think I got… distracted, for a time, by how similar we were. I saw a lot of myself in him, I thought I could handle him, and it made me underestimate how much of a threat he was. For that, I apologize. To you, to the Detective, to _Charlotte_, if I could talk to her. I'm… I'm sorry. I truly am.”

Chloe should have known Marcus would come up, but it didn’t prepare her for the nauseous feeling she’s now experiencing. Back then, investigating him and bringing him down became the priority; then the loft happened, and after that, total chaos. Once she was back, after Kinley, things with Lucifer were so fragile that she almost felt like she wasn’t entitled to any form of anger toward him.

It was only later, when he found his way back to her, that past resentments slowly bubbled up to the surface, mostly during fights. It took time to go past them, and a lot of shouting matches, angry tears, slammed doors, days of silence, concerned voicemails – sometimes from him, sometimes from her. But despite how much she hates to revisit those times, this isn’t about her, and if it’s what both Dan and Lucifer need, she will endure it.

“And one last thing, if I may,” Lucifer speaks up again, drawing her back to the present. “I am perfectly aware that it’s up to you and the Detective to make decisions about Beatrice’s life and acquaintances, and that all I can do is accept them. Believe me, far from me to try and get in the way of that! By all means, enjoy parenting and all the mind-numbingly boring responsibilities it entails.”

Chloe clears her throat, which gets him to refocus. “But I digress. What I want to say is… Daniel, you _must_ know I would never hurt the child. Or _any_ child, for that matter. Bloody hell, took me years just to get used to your offspring’s vicinity. And now that I have, I… I do care for the urchin, and I would do anything to protect her. I'm no liar, but even if that’s how you see me… I wouldn’t lie to you about this. I hope you can believe this, at least, if nothing else.”

An echo from long ago resonates inside Chloe’s head. _What if it’s the biggest lie of all?_ That was the moment she felt absolute dread trickle down her spine. _What if I was tricked? What if none of it was real? What if it’s all been just a cruel, twisted, perverse game of play-pretend?_

But the truth is, she was the one who let that scare her, precisely because there was nothing in Lucifer’s actual behavior that was doing it for her. She was the one who took the bait. So this time, she'll make sure no one will take advantage of Dan's fears in the same way. This time, she’ll let Lucifer speak for himself.

“I believe you,” Dan finally admits, lifting a huge weight off Chloe’s shoulders. “Plus, the way Trixie herself sings your praises is… kind of annoying, but in this case, very telling. And I appreciate you apologizing. Thank you for that.”

This seems to be going well. Chloe is starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. With a bit of further effort, there is no reason why things can’t go back to normal, and who knows, maybe Dan and Lucifer will actually get closer again instead of quite simply coexisting. A Detective can hope.

“A sincere apology can be a very powerful thing,” Linda comments, smiling warmly at both of her patients, before her expression turns more serious. “Which brings us to an issue Dan here has been struggling with, during our sessions, and that he has agreed to discuss with you guys today. An issue that, given what we all now know, doesn’t just involve disciplinary measures or jail time or… _human_ forms of punishment and rehabilitation, and that is, I believe, the core of the matter and of your relationship. Accountability. More specifically, guilt.”

The temperature in the room drops. This is serious stuff. Lucifer might have found a loophole around the way Hell must be governed – a council of demons he checks on regularly, which technically still makes him the ruler while allowing him to keep his life on Earth – but apparently it’s not in his power to change why souls end up there in the first place. It’s not a perfect system, but it’s what was decided by… higher forces it’s best not to mess with.

The therapist continues, “Now, while I think the ultimate goal should be one’s own forgiveness, the road leading there is long and difficult. So this is only a stepping stone along the way, but a very important one: seeking the forgiveness of others. Not necessarily _getting it_, at least not right away, but nevertheless, the act of asking for it and acknowledging one’s mistakes can be therapeutic and freeing. So, Dan… you can go ahead, if you’re ready, and I'll be here to help you all navigate your feelings as we go.”

Chloe doesn’t like how ominous it all sounds. It doesn’t feel like this is only about Dan's attitude toward Lucifer after Charlotte died, when he seemed hell-bent on venting all his grief and sorrow by using Lucifer as a scapegoat. Is there something she doesn’t know?

“Thank you, Linda,” Dan addresses her, as always, without the formal title Lucifer has grown fond of. “There is, in fact, something I need to get off my chest. Something I need to tell you – _both_ of you – that has been haunting me for a while, and that, among other things, makes me scared of what lies ahead for me. I feel like I keep avoiding being held accountable for the shit I do and… it’s messing with my head. It’s almost as if–as if the world or _Someone_ doesn’t want me to be punished _now_, so that I can be punished _later_.”

“I can assure you Father doesn’t concern Himself with the inner workings of human justice,” Lucifer chimes in, “but I do understand your worries, Daniel. Go on then, spit it out.”

“Yeah, you’re starting to freak me out a bit, Dan,” Chloe doubles down. “What is it?”

He looks like he’s about to be sick. A great sign.

“Tiernan’s men.” He says the words in a rush, eager to be done with it. “It was me. I was the one who sent them after Lucifer. I was the one who gave his name to the guy.”

“You did _what_?” Chloe explodes, turning fully toward him. Her burst of anger makes him shrink on himself as if wanting to disappear, but oh, it’s the last thing _she_ wants. Let him stay exactly where he is so she can _end_ him, and Hell will look like Hawaii in comparison. “Trixie was almost _killed_ that night! What the fuck were you thinking?”

And there he was, lecturing _her_ on guaranteeing Trixie’s safety? Un-fucking-believable. Thinking back, now she gets why he became so pale when she mentioned this incident in his car.

“I–I didn’t know she would go visit him! And I didn’t… I didn’t think Tiernan would try to… I mean, I assumed he would have Lucifer beaten up! Blackmailed over some crime I never managed to dig up, forced into financial ruin or something like that!”

“Oh, well, no problem then! Forget I said anything!”

In the midst of her rage, Chloe suddenly realizes Lucifer hasn’t said a word. Despite her initial resolve, she just made this about her, but… it is, too, isn’t it?

From her chair, Linda seems to have noticed the same thing.

“It’s clear that Chloe here has… _strong_ feelings about this, and we’ll circle back to them. In the meantime… Lucifer, how do _you_ feel? After all, we’re talking about a murder attempt at _your_ expense.”

At least when it comes to him, Chloe doesn’t need a psychology degree, not now that she’s grown so used to his changes in posture and demeanor. Lucifer’s jaw is clenched, his palm is clammy under hers, but what he ends up doing is… shrugging.

“I mean, wouldn’t be the first one, especially if we take into account the time I spent in Hell before coming back. And let’s be honest, dim-witted _Pony Boy_ with his pitiful attempt was nothing compared to what some of the most inventive demons came up with during the uprising.”

“How… reassuring,” Dan mutters, as white as a sheet at what, as he now knows, is more than delusional Devil-talk.

The fact that Lucifer talks about being endangered so casually makes something visceral and unpleasant twist in Chloe’s gut, but laced with protectiveness and tenderness, too. He has always shown an alarmingly low level of concern for his own wellbeing, and it used to bother her even _before_ demons got included in the mix.

“I just wish you had been more specific with them, Daniel. Even not considering your spawn sneaking off to visit me… you knew Eve was living with me.” Lucifer’s tone finally betrays a hint of anger then, or disappointment, more like. “She shielded Beatrice with no hesitation, and the miscreants almost shot her. I am invulnerable when the Detective is not around, but Eve is as human as they come. So, next time just… tell your hired goons of the day to catch me alone, yes?”

“Wait a second. What does that mean, when Chloe is not around?”

“Right, because _that_ is the part you decide to focus on!” Chloe snaps at Dan. “Not the fact that my boyfriend is assuming you might try to get him killed again in the future!”

“You’re right, you can explain that to me… some other time.” Dan turns to the other man on the couch. “Lucifer, you don’t have to worry about that. I feel like shit about this already, so.”

Lucifer nods, but doesn’t look very convinced. From her spot on the other side of the table, Linda lowers her head until she can meet his gaze.

“Lucifer, it’s great that you seem to be… understanding, but I feel the need to jump in. I'm afraid holding humans to demon standards might have… affected your view on things. Of course, we’re capable of treachery, violence and betrayal just like them, but… I want to make sure you know it’s okay to feel angry or disappointed in this case. The people you consider friends shouldn’t be out to get you, and it’s not healthy for you to expect them to constantly stab you in the back. This isn’t Hell, and it’s important that you learn to see the difference. So, please allow yourself to express how this discovery _really_ makes you feel.”

How can he be so big, but suddenly look so small? Chloe feels powerless as he disentangles his hand from hers to start spinning the onyx ring on his finger, almost unable to resist the temptation of such a distraction. She moves that same hand to his thigh, then, to stroke it lightly as he gathers his thoughts.

“I think I…” Lucifer trails off, exhaling shakily. “No, I _do_ understand. He was in a bad place, and I was too. After what happened with–with Joan, I… I know that I went too far. I know that I acted precisely like the criminals the Detective and I try to put behind bars, and I can see how that might have… pushed Daniel over the edge.”

Can he? Over a human trafficker of all people? Don’t get her wrong, that _was_ too far, but was it really the hill Dan had to die on?

“To be completely honest with you, I wouldn’t say I ratted you out because I thought you did wrong. When I felt like I had to, I also took justice into my own hands.” Dan glances at Chloe, but then quickly changes the subject, so she mentally reminds herself to ask him about it another time. “The truth is, it was personal. I wanted to hurt you, because I was _so_ angry with you. And thinking about it now… what I told you at the docks, it was wrong and… if it contributed to that decision, then the blame is mine to share.”

Lucifer’s smile is one of relief. “It’s okay, Daniel. I–I understand.”

“Well, I don’t.” Turns out, Chloe lacks the patience or forgiving nature of the Devil – funny that. “What did you tell him at the docks?”

“Detective, it’s fine, let’s not–”

“No.” She lifts her hand to silence Lucifer. “I want him to say it.”

Dan looks at Linda, who offers him a nod of encouragement. He takes a deep breath, then explains, “I told him that everything he touched turned to shit. That he needed to accept he was not helping, that he was not one of the good guys, but the opposite.”

“You son of a–”

“Oookay, let’s, uh, let’s take a step back here,” Linda intervenes just in time before Chloe can wrap her hands around Dan's neck. To… shake him gently, of course. “Chloe, let’s focus on how all this new information is making you feel, mm? By using our _words_, I mean.”

She settles back on the couch and clears her throat. “_Fine_. I'm pissed, that’s how I feel. No, I'm _furious_.” She turns to Dan, who looks like he wants the ground to swallow him. “First of all, you had no business telling him that. For all _you_ knew, he was an unarmed civilian consultant who just experienced a traumatic event. _Joan_ was the trained officer, and still, it didn’t save her. The only person to blame for what happened to her is Julian himself.”

“I know. I agree. I just didn’t see it that way at the time.”

“Secondly, to circle back to the whole _murder attempt_ thing… I'm glad if you and Lucifer can make up, Dan, truly, I am. But I'm not him. I don’t have millennia of betrayals under my belt making me used to this sort of stuff; what I have is an ex-husband who deceived me on the job, _again_. I remember asking Pony Boy who gave him Lucifer’s name, I remember him lying, and I remember _you_ not correcting him. It’s been years since Palmetto, and nothing’s changed. So, what do you want me to say? That out of everyone here, _you_ are the person I feel I can trust the _least_?”

And to think they came here to ease Dan's conscience. Well, Chloe is not going to bury her anger and disappointment for that, not yet at least. He'll have to make it up to her, to earn it. There is no point in saying “I forgive you” if you don’t mean it, and right now, she doesn’t.

Then again, she knows herself: it won’t take that long, either. If she were one to hold grudges, she's not sure either of the men sitting next to her would still be in her life, and to be fair, it’s getting harder and harder to follow the threads making up the web of half-truths and omissions linking all three of them. Hopefully though, from this day forward, they can all finally be more honest with each other.

This time, it’s Lucifer the one to reach down and grasp one of her hands. Chloe smiles at him weakly, feeling exhausted. Damn, are all his sessions this revelatory? How does Linda even keep up?

Oh, right. She takes notes for that. Nevermind.

“You’re right, Chlo. About all of it,” Dan says. “And I know it still won’t be enough, but I have come to a decision, or… well, I have been _considering_ it, here with Linda and by myself, but now I feel like my mind is made up.” He stops for emphasis, and even before he says it, she can practically _see_ a weight melt from his shoulders. “I'm leaving the LAPD.”

She blinks. Even Lucifer, who has been overall a picture of composure, looks shocked.

“Are you sure?” Chloe asks. “It’s… it’s such a big change.”

The wheels in her head start spinning immediately. Given his years of service, Dan can actually retire and live comfortably with the pension he will receive, so financially speaking, it shouldn’t be a problem. It’s just a weird thought to contemplate, but… the more she entertains it, the more she realizes Dan lost his spark a while back, maybe at Palmetto Street, or even before that. And if he thinks this is the right move to try and find peace with _himself_ and what he’s done, of course she will support him, no matter how mad she currently is.

“Yeah, I'm sure,” he answers her question. “And I won’t lie to you: I'm not certain I would have the guts to take the leap, if it wasn’t for my recent… discovery. Turns out, it was the push I needed. It’s one thing to believe Hell exists in an abstract way; but _knowing_ it’s a thing and finding out how it works… I see now that I need to make a change in my life. I need to do _good_, and I'm not sure I can do it as a Detective anymore.”

Lucifer looks impressed, his smile almost one of fondness. “I'm very proud of you, Daniel. No matter our differences, I certainly wouldn’t want you to end up in that wretched place. I didn’t know you were struggling with so much guilt, so I sincerely hope you’ll turn your life around. And for what it’s worth, you have my forgiveness.”

“Thank you, man. It means a lot, actually.”

When momentary silence stretches into possible awkwardness, Linda takes advantage of it to speak.

“Chloe, it’s my understanding that you, on the other hand, are not there yet, right?”

Chloe sighs. She _so_ wishes she could be like Lucifer, but she isn’t. At the same time, she certainly doesn’t want Dan or anyone she knows to end up in Hell, so she’ll make the effort.

“I need some time, that’s all. It’s just a lot to swallow.”

Linda nods and adjusts her glasses on her nose. “Would you be open to a few more sessions, with Dan only, this time? Same goes for Dan and Lucifer. This was a good start, but I feel like you guys have different issues to solve with Dan, and doing this again with the three of you might end up being more beneficial to some, and less to others.”

_Sure, as long as they are the ones paying for it!_

“Yeah. Sounds good to me.”

When Dan and Lucifer agree as well, Linda declares the session over, which is a relief. It was a lot, and Chloe needs to stop thinking for a while. Netflix and chill with her Devil sounds like an extraordinary idea at the moment.

As they head out of the office, Dan and Lucifer end up walking side by side toward the exit. Chloe stays back and watches them in silence.

“So Daniel, any plans for your new life?” Lucifer dares a pat on the back, which is met with only a _slight_ flinch from the other man. “What do you think your douche-skills are better suited for? Have you given it any thought?”

“Actually, I was thinking of opening an improv and stand-up bar. You know, with a stage and all, for open-mic events and that sort of stuff. Maybe, making people laugh or just escape their life for a while can be my new way of helping others, I figured.”

“Really?” Lucifer wrinkles his nose, but quickly recovers, “I mean, uh, sure! What a great idea! And of course, you can have _me_ sing at the opening. Free of charge, that is. I'll be a generous Devil, despite the fact that all the clients will be there because of me.”

Dan gives a small laugh. “Hey, slow down, I haven’t even found a place yet!”

“Oh, leave that to me! I can give you the number of my realtor of choice – lovely chap, a bit too clingy under the sheets – and he will get you the very _best_ deals out there! We could do karaoke or– ah-ah! Here’s an idea! Movie nights!”

Lucifer’s arm circles Dan's shoulders, as if ready to plot his Father knows what kind of mischief. “Did I ever tell you I have the last _Weaponizer_ movie on DVD with the director’s commentary and cut scenes? Three entire minutes of that car chase in Prague, gone! A bloody crime against action cinema, if you ask me. We’ll set up a projector, and then…”

Chloe tunes them out at that point, but the sound of their voices together, even without registering the words, puts a smile on her face. It reminds her of the good old days, which seem even farther away after today’s session.

Good God, they’re all such a mess.

And yet, as she watches the two idiots she’s stuck with (the one she loves and the one she has loved), Chloe thinks: _Somehow, we’ll be okay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As obvious as it might be, I feel the need to clarify that I have zero experience in psychology, so please take whatever Linda says about dealing with guilt with a grain of salt. Hopefully it seemed kind of believable!
> 
> I struggled a lot with the tone of the third part, but in the end, it felt to me like it wasn’t right to shy away from the seriousness of it all when these three fools have so much baggage to navigate! And I decided that, even though this is overall a feel-good story, sometimes it’s okay to deal with the heavy stuff, too, and move the plot along with meaningful changes.
> 
> In the next chapter, you’re all invited to Dan's improv bar! Drinks on the house ;)


	16. How to... welcome his ex back into your life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s hard to stay mad at your boyfriend’s ex when she’s the First Woman, Mother of Humanity, and possibly the nicest person you have ever met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to my sweet redledgers and her love for Eve ❤

When Eve waltzes back into their life, she does it in a similar way as the first time around: unannounced, unexpected, and at least in Chloe’s case, not exactly welcomed. While it’s true that Eve proved herself at the Mayan – for all her experience in the field, Chloe probably wouldn’t have thought of sticking a heel in a demon’s eye – it’s also true that the events of that night happened because of Eve's own recklessness (paired with hers and Lucifer’s, per his admission), and it’s hard not to feel like her presence means trouble.  
  
Seeing her at the precinct makes everyone’s heads turn: for one, the woman is gorgeous, and second, Chloe bets her colleagues are wondering if a storm is on the horizon for the unusual Detective-Devil duo now that Lucifer’s smoking hot ex girlfriend is back. There are officers who still discuss the Cirque du Soleil story over coffee to this day, like horny teenagers gathering in secret to flick through a copy of Playboy they managed to sneak into their backpacks at school.  
  
Seriously, folks, just watch porn and be done with it (though thinking about it, there is a chance they might find Lucifer there too, so nevermind).  
  
And yet, there is also something different about Eve. Suddenly, she doesn’t look like someone permanently dressed for a posh Sunday brunch, someone who just _has_ to look their very best. She’s wearing a simple pair of skinny jeans, a loose sleeveless top tucked into them and a messy ponytail; a few casual-looking strands frame her round face, while the rest of her luscious dark hair tumbles past her shoulders, swaying as she walks. It’s no pretty dress with heels, but it suits her, makes her look even younger.  
  
“Eve?” Lucifer calls her name as she approaches, then stands up to greet her. “Eve, darling! What are you doing here?”  
  
As they meet right in front of Chloe's desk, the whole precinct seems to have nothing better to do than watch with bathed breath, like a bunch of old ladies in front of a soap opera. Suddenly, it’s like there are no crimes to solve in this city anymore.  
  
“Well, I… I'm back!” Eve announces with a nervous, undeniably adorable giggle. “I just wanted to stop by and say hi, that’s all.” Then her large, doe-like eyes find Chloe’s, her expression turning guarded. “Hi, Chloe.”  
  
“Hey,” Chloe greets back, waving half-heartedly from where she’s still sitting. She doesn’t really know what else to say, though she is a bit curious about what Eve has been doing and where. Maze would never admit it, but she moped a lot after her departure, which in Maze’s case meant an army of dummies full of knife-inflicted holes and many Tribe nights spent getting drunk and occasionally punching strangers in the face (usually people bothering them or trying to hit on one of them, so all in all, could have been worse).  
  
Luckily for Chloe, Lucifer voices her same curiosity right away. “So, what have you been up to?”  
  
“Oh, you know…” Eve gestures vaguely and shrugs, “traveling, mostly. Waiting tables, babysitting, this sort of thing. Some families even host you in their own homes if you accept to take care of their children for them! That was nice. The cheap motel I had booked in Argentina was… not good.” She wrinkles her nose at that, shaking her head as if it could be enough to ban the thought.  
  
Chloe feels impressed at her answer. She knows Lucifer arranged for Eve to have fake documents once she moved in with him (conveniently _after_ the investigation involving the Desert Mirage was closed), though to this day she’s unaware of what Eve's made-up surname is supposed to be. Still, Eve wasn’t planning on working back then, so she doubts Lucifer also provided her with a fabricated resume to prove previous experience to possible employers.  
  
She got hired all on her own, and while Chloe doesn’t doubt that her looks and overall cuteness can go a long way, she can admit it’s remarkable and brave to go out into a completely unfamiliar world all alone, without anyone’s help.  
  
Then again, does it really surprise her? This is a woman who literally left Heaven out of boredom to go partying with the Devil. A woman who, unlike Chloe, never recoiled at the sight of his other face.  
  
“You must have so many stories to tell,” Lucifer smiles, fascinated. “I know what it’s like to experience humanity in bits and pieces throughout the centuries, but to see it all at once! That must have been something.”  
  
“Yeah, it was. What have _you_ been up to instead? I mean, aside from the usual ‘punishing the bad guys the old-fashioned way’.”  
  
From behind him, Chloe sees Lucifer’s shoulders tense. Obviously, Eve doesn’t know where _he_ has been, specifically, because she left even before he did.  
  
“Oh, you know… flying here and there. Up and down. Mostly _down_, for a while.”  
  
His attempt at projecting lightness lands badly: Eve struggles for words, then ventures a reply.  
  
“I'm sorry, Luce. I know it’s not what you wanted.”  
  
“Yes, well…” A spin of the ring, cufflinks being fixed; his whole Hell-exorcising ritual takes place before he goes, “What–what matters is that I'm back now, alright? Unless you have a few more demons hiding in your handbag, that is.” He tilts his head. “_Please_ don’t have a few more demons hiding in your handbag?”  
  
This time, the joke works better. Eve shakes her head and chuckles, “No, Luce, I _swear_ I don’t.”  
  
“Splendid! What a relief.”  
  
That same relief is evident on Eve's face: his forgiveness must mean a lot to her. Lucifer wasn’t exactly amicable when she last saw him, at the penthouse and then the Mayan. His nephew’s kidnapping had left him with no patience or understanding to spare, but it’s been a while now.  
  
Deep down, Chloe sadly believes Lucifer blames himself for it (well, he told her as much), so that must have something to do with his eagerness to just… change the subject. Just like he did with Dan, unlike Chloe herself. Some habits of his just run too deep.  
  
“Okay, then,” Eve's words fill the silence, “I guess I'll just–”  
  
“Eeeve!” Ella barrels into her from seemingly out of nowhere, sweeping her up into one of her bone-crushing hugs. “Oh my God, it’s so good to see you! You gotta tell me _everything_, girl! Let me take a good look at you!” The forensic scientist pulls back, grabs her by the shoulders and does just that. “Yup, still hot!”  
  
“Damn right!” Eve replies right away, and as if they planned it, the two meet in an enthusiastic high-five to commemorate Eve's… confirmed hotness.  
  
“So where did you go? I feel like it’s been forever! Did you travel coast to coast? Went to South America? _Please_ tell me you’ve visited Europe and had a _liaison_ with a fashionable French man! No, or Italian! And the Spanish, well, those are just _guapísimos_! If only you'd told me before leaving, I would have taught you how to dirty talk, oof, it’s so sexy and–”  
  
“Miss Lopez, dear, let the poor woman breathe,” Lucifer chuckles, though his eyes are bright with the kind of naughtiness only Ella can really inspire – a cheeky, childish joy that sets them apart from everyone else. “But I _do_ attest to the merits of dirty talking in Spanish, for the record. I'm sure former Detective Espinoza here will, too!”  
  
Oh, right, Dan has been here the whole time. He and Chloe don’t exactly… engage in conversation a lot, outside of therapy, and when today he came to clear the last of his things from his desk and make his retirement official, he did his best not to attract attention. Luckily for him, Eve seems to have drawn it all to herself… until now.  
  
“I, uh… I guess,” he replies dumbly, as if caught in a trance. His eyes are so focused on Eve they’re not even blinking.  
  
“Well, anyway,” Eve smiles a bit awkwardly, “I have to go to a job interview now, so I'm sorry, Ella, but I'll tell you all about my trip some other time. If that’s… okay?” she concludes timidly, clearly unsure of the place she now occupies in their lives. Despite her reservations, Chloe feels for her: it must be scary to not have roots.  
  
“If it’s okay? Are you kidding me? You should totally come hang out with the Tribe one of these nights!” Ella suggests with a big smile. “Right, Chlo?”  
  
Ha, nice move there. How could she say no?  
  
“Yeah, of course,” she confirms. “It will be fun.”  
  
And yet, unexpectedly, Eve is the one hesitating. Shifting from foot to foot, she asks softly, “Will, uhm… will Maze be there, too?”  
  
“Well, yeah,” Ella replies automatically. “Can’t really be a Tribe Night without the Tribe Chief. We went through a whole demon ceremony to make it official. I gotta say, that was _way_ more kissing than I expected from a Hellish tradition, but you know, it’s never good to trust stereotypes. I mean, not all Latinos are drug dealers and _bad hombres_, so that was my bad.”  
  
The truth is, Maze decided that making out with each of them was the next best thing after Chloe explained to her they would _absolutely not_ cut their own palms to perform a blood pact, so… more like a _Mazikeen_ tradition, really. Fun times. Lucifer was so mad she didn’t send pictures.  
  
“Oh.” Eve's eyes widen, her demeanor suddenly fidgety. “Then maybe we should… wait. I'm not sure I'm ready to see her yet. And if it’s not too much to ask, please don’t tell her I'm back. I want it to come from me.”  
  
Great. Maze will skin them all alive and use their hides as winter coats, no biggie.  
  
Even Ella looks surprised (and mildly terrified), but in the end, she replies, “Okay. If you promise you’ll tell her soon, I guess that’s fine.”  
  
“I promise,” Eve reassures her. Then she looks at Lucifer, Chloe and Dan. “It was nice seeing you all again. You have a good day.”  
  
But before she can turn around and leave, Lucifer stops her gently by her upper arm. “Eve?” he calls her name tentatively, as if scared to break it.  
  
Past all her jealousy back in the day, Chloe has always found his attitude toward Eve incredibly sweet. Seeing him in a stable relationship for the first time made her realize not only that he was boyfriend material, but that he could be amazing at it, a committed and loving partner. And even now, his protectiveness is heartwarming to witness.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“About the job interview.” Lucifer releases her, then continues, “Do you need, well… a few words of encouragement from your friendly neighborhood Devil, shall we say? So many people owe me favors. It would be my pleasure to help you settle down, if you really plan to stay.”  
  
Eve smiles at him with a fondness Chloe knows all too well. _No one ever asked me what I wanted. Except for him._ She remembers Eve saying those words with such awe and gratitude, and she probably needs to accept that deep down, this woman will always love him. And that maybe, as much as Lucifer might not have seen it that way, a part of him will too, but there is no reason to feel threatened by it.  
  
For this last resolution, she probably needs a bit more time, but she’s only human.  
  
“Thank you, Luce, but… I want to make it on my own, like I have so far,” Eve answers in the end. “You don’t have to worry about me. No more getting involved with jewelry thieves and murderous Uber drivers for this lady right here!”  
  
“My poor, abused face thanks you for that,” Lucifer chuckles, before his expression softens, turning contemplative and proud. “Good luck, then, love.”  
  
And just like that, Eve leaves once again, though this obviously won’t be the last time they see her. On the other hand, her plans regarding Maze are unclear, but if Eve wants to carve a space for herself in their small circle of friends regardless of what happens with the demon, Chloe will have to live with it.  
  
Getting to know her better would help, maybe? She never did before, not really. Not as a real person beside the role of Lucifer’s girlfriend Eve inhabited with such devotion (too much, one could say). If Eve left to figure out who she is, and now she has, it only makes sense for all of them to do the same now.  
  
She’s not a bad person, at the end of the day. Chloe never thought she was. A bad influence, yes, but out of nostalgia and naivety more than any real cruelty. Plus she will never forget what Eve did for Trixie, and just for that, she will make the effort.  
  
“So…” Dan's stunned voice cuts off her train of thought, “if Lucifer is _that_ Lucifer, and Pierce was _that_ Cain, it means Eve is… _that_ Eve?”  
  
“Yes,” Chloe confirms, casting a puzzled glance in his direction. Really, Dan, catch up with the program, will you?  
  
“From _that_ Garden.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“The one of the Bible.”  
  
“_Yes._”  
  
“Took you long enough, douche,” Lucifer quips, raising an eyebrow in amusement.  
  
“And I made out with her!” Ella bumps her fist against Dan's shoulder, making him jump out of his daze. “How cool is that?!”  
  
Chloe is not sure whether his shocked expression is due to finding out about Eve or about the kiss Ella is talking about, but either way, she laughs.  
  
That’s when Lucifer oh-so-casually pipes up, “Well, Miss Lopez, it horrifies me to remind you that our dear Daniel right here shagged the Goddess of All Creation Herself, so… if this was a competition, I'd say he's way ahead of you, darling.”  
  
Dan turns toward him as if caught in slow-motion. Chloe can almost picture smoke coming out of his ears as he connects the dots: if the person he thought was Charlotte used to be with Lucifer’s father, who is _God_, then…  
  
“Man, I just _really_ can’t catch a break, can I?”

  
  
_What to do:_  
  
_1\. Hang out in a safe, comfortable environment (you'd think)_  
  
In the end, it’s Linda who decides to reach out and invite Eve to her house for tea, together with Chloe (and Trixie tagging along to spend time with Charlie). In all of this, somehow Chloe failed to remember that Linda would also be entitled to a certain amount of resentment toward the First Woman, especially considering how she left right after saving the therapist’s child from the demons she had helped summon.  
  
“I really want to thank you for inviting me here,” is the first thing Eve says once the three of them settle on the couches of Linda’s living room. Her fingers tighten around her hot mug, her big eyes turning sad as she regards Charlie on the carpet. “I would like to apologize to you, for what happened to your son. I am so, so sorry he was put in harm's way, and… I hope you can forgive my actions, Linda. If I had known, I… I would never have risked something like that. Children are the purest thing in the whole world.”  
  
A nostalgia that Chloe can only describe as ancient settles over Eve’s features, something she never allowed herself to show before, at least not in her presence. Playful, sexy, funny, cute: Chloe always saw the enthusiasm of a little girl in her, an innocence she almost found unnerving at times. But in this moment, she gets it: there is more to Eve than what meets the eye. For one, a mother, and a broken-hearted one at that.  
  
Oh no, now her mind is going _there_. Ugh, she has been doing such a good job so far.  
  
Linda lets go of her own mug with one hand to place it over Eve’s leg, giving her a gentle squeeze and a soft, tired smile.  
  
“I don’t want to think about it anymore,” she confesses, for once the one whose feelings are exposed. “It’s too painful. Let’s just… move on, and be happy. Let’s just _be_. What do you say?”  
  
Eve laughs in relief, overwhelmed. “Yeah. Yeah, I would like that very much.”  
  
“Besides,” Chloe adds, tentative in her offer of comfort, “why was Kinley in LA in the first place? It wouldn’t be fair of me to not take responsibility for that. Let’s just establish we messed up. _Badly_,” she concludes, laughing self-consciously – because jeez, what an understatement.  
  
“Big time,” Eve agrees timidly, her smile clearly grateful for the lifeline she was offered. Chloe can sense even Eve herself doesn’t know how to get closer to her, how to mend something that, in all fairness, was never there below that superficial resolve to get along for Lucifer’s sake. Can they really become friends, now that everything else has sorted itself out?  
  
“So!” Linda jumps in to save the moment, trying to make it lighter, “Chloe told me you had a job interview! That must have been exciting! What kind of job was it? How did it go?”  
  
Eve's face brightens at the chance to talk about it, and Chloe can’t help but wonder how lonely she must feel, how lonely she must have _been_ this whole time.  
  
“Oh, it was a plant store! I'm really, really good with those. You know, from the Garden?”  
  
“Of course,” Linda rolls her eyes, “that makes an _incredible_ amount of sense.”  
  
“I always liked taking care of them,” Eve goes on, suddenly sheepish. She takes a sip of her tea, then adds, “Only problem was, back then I didn’t know what they’re _called_, you see. But I went prepared! I watched sooo many documentaries and read a lot of books. I think they were very impressed with me. I still have to hear back, so fingers crossed!”  
  
“I'm sure you’ll get the job,” Chloe tells her with a smile, endeared by it all. Damnit, this woman truly is impossible to hate.  
  
“I hope so!” Eve replies with a nervous chuckle. “I put away a bit of money, but I'll be running out soon and rent is _so_ expensive around here,” she continues, with an aura of tired experience that amuses Chloe endlessly in its ridiculousness. “But don’t tell Lucifer or he'll give me another one of his credit cards! Though I admit, I miss going shopping with that.” Her eyes widen, as if caught in a lie. “No, wait, no, I don’t. I don’t! I can do this. I am a tough cookie, and a grown, strong, independent woman. Yup, that’s it. Forget I said that.”  
  
Both Chloe and Linda chuckle: what a child this person from another millennia is. Just another shade of the craziness Lucifer brought into their lives: discussing rent prices and job opportunities with the woman who plucked the forbidden fruit from the Tree of Knowledge. Chloe sees so much of Lucifer in her, too: a young, stubborn refusal to get _bored_ with anything. No, boredom just won’t do: there _must_ be a way to escape it, and there are no limits to what should be done to find it.  
  
It’s this similarity, together with how ridiculously _hot_ they looked together, that Chloe has a hard time dealing with. Because she and Lucifer are not similar: on the contrary, they couldn’t be more different. But isn’t that what helped them grow? And doesn’t Eve deserve the same, instead of staying stuck in a never-ending childhood?  
  
Must be fun, don’t get her wrong. But the world doesn’t work that way. And especially now that Eve wants to make it on her own, it will swallow her whole if she doesn’t learn how to look out for herself.  
  
“Ow, Charlie, _ow!_” Trixie’s voice reaches them from the side, making them turn their heads in the children’s direction. “I was giving it back to you, there’s no need to get mad! Let _go!_”  
  
“Charlie!” Linda places her mug on the coffee table and assumes a motherly position, her hands on her hips. “Stop pulling Trixie’s hair, right now!”  
  
“It’s _my_ truck!” the baby angel objects, his wings currently hidden from view (though at this rate, Chloe knows from experience that they might come out soon). “Give me back!”  
  
“I was doing that!”  
  
Sighing, Linda stands up from the couch to physically separate Charlie from Trixie, but Eve stops her by placing a hand on her arm.  
  
“Have you tried teaching him how to comb it?” she asks shyly. When Linda shakes her head, she adds, “May I?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
As Linda leaves to get a comb from the bathroom, Eve goes to sit cross-legged behind Charlie and Trixie and gently pries the half-angel's fingers open. Despite Trixie giving him back the toy, in fact, his anger has not yet subsided.  
  
“Hey, you,” Eve coos, smiling down at the toddler. “You’re all grown-up, aren’t you? And that’s a very pretty truck you got there.”  
  
“It’s _mine_,” Charlie insists stubbornly, as if scared Eve will steal it from him. She chuckles, tucking a strand of her long, loose hair behind her ear.  
  
“I know it is, don’t worry. But pulling someone’s hair, that’s not nice. Wanna learn something fun instead?”  
  
“Okay,” Charlie agrees, though he doesn’t look convinced. That’s when Linda comes back and gives Eve a comb, before settling back on the couch to watch, intrigued.  
  
Eve searches Trixie’s gaze for permission, and once she finds it, she proceeds to comb her hair and talk Charlie through it. “Like this, see? Until it’s aaall smooth and tidy. Wanna try on me?”  
  
“Yes!” Charlie replies, hypnotized by the slow movements. When Eve offers him the comb, he even lets go of the yellow toy truck he seemed to be so fond of a moment ago. Eve turns toward the couch again to give her back to the boy, making a face when his first attempt, of course, pulls a bit too harshly.  
  
“Baby, be gentle,” Linda scolds him softly, her eyes happy and bright. After a few other missteps, Charlie starts to get better, his little hand almost disappearing among the thick, dark locks of Eve's hair.  
  
“It has a soothing effect,” Eve explains as the ritual goes on, looking proud. “I guess it’s because it’s so repetitive, I'm not sure. I even taught Cain to braid my hair when he was a little boy, he was amazing at it.”  
  
Chloe flinches, her sharp intake of breath unmistakably loud. _She went there, why did she go there?_ Awkwardness incoming, abort, abort!  
  
“Oh, I'm–I'm sorry,” Eve says immediately. “Forgive me, I wasn’t thinking. I know that Charlotte, the woman he killed, was also a friend of yours.”  
  
Linda and Chloe share a look. Chloe nods minutely, giving her permission to say… whatever she decides to say to recap what is, to put it mildly, a mess of Biblical proportions (pun intended).  
  
“It’s not just that,” the therapist explains. “You see, Pierce–uhm, _Cain_ and Chloe… they were engaged, for a while. Then she broke up with him and… that whole mess happened.”  
  
“Oh.” Eve is so surprised, she doesn’t even complain when Charlie pulls her hair again in his enthusiasm. “I, uh… I didn’t know that. Lucifer didn’t… mention him often.”  
  
_Yeah, I bet_, Chloe thinks to herself. _Talk about a freaking elephant in the room_. Does the woman know her son and ex boyfriend _kissed_? Chloe won’t be the one to break the news to her for sure.  
  
“Well, _I_ didn’t like him,” Trixie announces from her spot on the carpet, her chin lifted proudly. “I mean, no offense or anything.”  
  
“None taken,” Eve chuckles, then turns to Chloe again. “So, you’re saying I almost became your mother-in-law?!”  
  
Chloe cringes so hard she’s scared she might break the mug still clutched in her hand. “That’s… not really the reaction I was expecting, but yeah, I suppose that’s true.”  
  
“Awesome!” Eve exclaims, clapping her hands together. Then, as she slows down, “I mean… well, not really, I guess. I'm just _very_ confused.”  
  
“You and me both.”  
  
Eve smiles at her, and in this very moment, the embarrassment they share almost becomes a comfort. Something that unites them.  
  
_Yes_, Chloe decides, _maybe we can become friends after all_.

  
  
_2\. Shop for a gift together_  
  
“So this is for the douche, right? What is his name again?”  
  
“Dan.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
Chloe shakes her head as she follows Eve through the glass-roofed outdoor space of _Gates of Eden_, the plant store that, of course, ended up hiring her as predicted. Whether Eve picked the place on purpose because of the name or not, the whole thing is just incredibly funny to think about.  
  
“Okay, so tell me about this bar he’s about to open,” Eve continues. “You know, so I can get an idea of what kind of plant would fit best.”  
  
Right…  
  
“Uhm, to be honest, I don’t really… know much about it,” Chloe admits, trying not to feel too guilty. “We are figuring stuff out at the moment, so I haven’t been there to help him set it up.”  
  
“I see.” Eve stops walking to tap a finger on her lips, thinking. She has her hair in a high, messy bun today, and is wearing a simple white T-shirt under the dark green apron with the store's name and logo on it (an apple tree with a snake wrapped around its trunk – told you it’s hilarious). “Do you know what color the furniture is? The walls? Are we talking rustic, industrial, modern? Fancy, vintage, shabby?”  
  
“Whoa, okay, you need to slow down a little,” Chloe chuckles. Damn, she decided to go for a plant ‘cause she thought it would be _easy_. “I mean, if I had to guess… rustic? Something with wood, for sure. Simple, warm and authentic.”  
  
“Alright, I can work with that!” Eve declares, bursting with professional determination. “Wanna see the small plants first? He could put one on a table, a shelf or the counter, that sort of thing.”  
  
“Sure,” Chloe agrees with a shrug, then lets Eve lead her to the dedicated section of the store.  
  
“This one is a _Monstera deliciosa_, or Swiss cheese plant. Funny, right?” the woman laughs, pointing at big, wide leaves with long horizontal gaps cutting through them. “Doesn’t need direct sunlight, so he could even put it in a corner, and it suffers if you water it too much, so it’s great for minimum effort.”  
  
“Sounds perfect,” Chloe quips, sharing a look with her. Eve rolls her eyes as if to say _Men, what can you do?_, then points at another specimen.  
  
“Another low-maintenance one is this one, the golden photos. Usually people put it in baskets hanging from the ceiling, that could be nice! We have it in many variations: bright green with streaks of yellow or white, or more of a greyish tone with streaks of cream.”  
  
Chloe takes a moment to admire the heart-shaped leaves of the plant, and is almost convinced it could be the right purchase when Eve pipes up, “Oh, and fun fact! Another name for it is _Devil’s ivy_. I just love how inventive these names are! I bet Lucifer would be having a good laugh right now.”  
  
_Yeah, especially if I end up gifting it to Dan_.  
  
“I'm not sure it would be a good idea, then,” Chloe tells her. “He only recently found out that Lucifer is the Devil, so I'd rather avoid the reminder.”  
  
“Ah. I say it could be perfect, instead. Isn’t this gift from both of you guys?”  
  
Yeah, good question. “You would think, but no. Lucifer is gifting _himself_, you see. As in, performing live, free of charge.”  
  
Eve snorts, covering her mouth with her hand. “That’s so Luce.”  
  
“Right?”  
  
They share an easy, comfortable laugh before Eve goes back to her mission, straightening the fabric of her apron as if it was a business suit. The job suits her, Chloe decides: as dull as it might seem, Eve looks like she’s having the time of her life, as always.  
  
“Fine, no Devil’s ivy then. A Mass Cane, maybe? You only need to water it once a week.” She points to a plant with long, green leaves striped with yellow, then to a taller one with glossy, darker leaves and white flowers. “Same for the Peace Lily, though you gotta make sure not to let dust pile up on it. Oh, how about this one? Super resilient, takes a lot to kill it. People call it Snake Plant or Mother-in-law's tongue.”  
  
“Okay, now you’re just messing with me.”  
  
“No, I swear! Told you, it’s so fun.”  
  
And honestly, it is. It really is. But at this rate, they’ll go through the whole store just to laugh at silly plant names.  
  
“Let’s go with the first one you showed me,” Chloe concludes. “The Swiss cheese.”  
  
“You don’t want to see the taller ones?”  
  
“Nah, I'm fine.”  
  
“Okay.” Eve retraces her steps and takes one of the plants from its brown plastic pot, then gestures for Chloe to follow her inside for the wrapping and payment. “Wanna keep this pot or choose a different one? Wood? Ceramic? Terra cotta? Metal? Stone?”  
  
“Surprise me,” Chloe answers with a shrug and a smile. Once at the counter, Eve goes for a glazed ceramic pot that she is _sure_ will go with any kind of furniture, then wraps a pretty red bow around it.  
  
Once payment is complete, Eve walks around the counter once again and escorts Chloe all the way to the exit, a giddy bounce in her step. For real, stick a few flowers in her hair and the woman would basically be a Disney princess. Chloe wouldn’t be surprised to see her drawing animals to her with the power of a song and all that jazz. Wouldn’t be _that_ weird, comparatively.  
  
Before leaving and going back to her car, though, she feels the need to ask a question that will probably ruin Eve's cheery mood.  
  
“Uhm, Eve, before I go… do you plan on talking to Maze anytime soon? ‘Cause I'll be honest, I'm starting to feel kinda guilty about it. What if she runs into you? She will be so mad, it’s not fair to her.”  
  
Eve listens attentively, nodding. “You’re right, it isn’t. But–but I have a plan! And for it to work, you have to keep the secret for a bit longer. It will be a surprise! She will come to the opening, right?”  
  
“She’s not particularly thrilled, but yeah.”  
  
“Yay!” Eve jumps on the spot. “Then it’s all going to work out. Actually…” Her eyes narrow. “Since I've helped you with this, would you mind returning the favor? I need a little advice.”  
  
About what, clothes? That sounds unlikely. Except for that one time Eve decided to dress and act like a Detective, Chloe doubts she’ll ever mimic her fashion sense again. Besides, the woman could wear a burlap sack and still look absolutely gorgeous. Chloe is not one to downplay her own physical qualities, but there is something inherently young, easy and natural in Eve's beauty – something effortless, timeless, undeniable. Chloe’s birth might have been the result of a miracle, but Eve was carved by the hands of God Himself.  
  
And yet, Chloe needs to remind herself that she is no less human because of it. Maybe quite the opposite. They are equals, they are starting to be _friends_, and friends help each other out.  
  
“Sure thing,” she replies. “Whatever you need.”  
  
Eve beams and hugs her tightly without even thinking about it. Her hair does smell of flowers, Chloe realizes.

  
  
_3\. Help her plan a grand gesture_  
  
Eve's apartment is small but tasteful, a loft-style flat with only the bathroom physically separated from the rest and a thin, flower-patterned curtain surrounding her bed in the corner, not that far from a small kitchenette, a table with two chairs and a sofa and TV. At least it’s airy and full of light, with big windows and many plants (of course) on shelves or hanging from the ceiling.  
  
There isn’t much, but what she added tells a story: pictures of herself in the places she has visited, sometimes alone and sometimes with people she must have met. Chloe scans the images with a small smile on her face as Eve brews a pot of coffee in the opposite corner, apologizing profusely for the mess and how tight the space is and other things that don’t really matter.  
  
There is a picture of her riding a donkey on her way to Machu Picchu, precariously balanced on the animal’s back or more like well on her way to falling over and down the hill, but smiling bright and carefree. In another, she is with a family in a snowy place, making a snowman with the parents and children. Another was taken on the beach, and shows her in a wide sun hat and black bikini; another shows her in the woods, roasting marshmallows over a fire.  
  
Between one frame and the next, there are a few snow globes containing famous monuments she must have visited, and mugs with cartoon cats of different sizes and colors Eve explains with “I just really, _really_ love those videos of them jumping and missing the landing,” because of course, that’s all the reason you need to fill your home with a cat-themed mug collection.  
  
Cups of coffee in hand, they finally sit at the kitchen table, over which Eve slides her small black ipod in Chloe’s direction.  
  
“I made a playlist of possible choices,” she explains, tapping on it and then letting Chloe scroll through it with her free hand. “Tell me what you think.”  
  
Chloe goes through the titles slowly, trying to imagine Eve singing each song. She never heard her sing in general, actually, but from her speaking voice, she can get an idea of what she would sound like. And if she wants to do it, Chloe assumes she must be at least decent. Well, she hopes. It’s all very romantic until the person serenading the other opens their mouth and sounds like a dying seagull.  
  
She also considers the lyrics: although she lacks a lot of context about the kind of relationship Eve and Maze had, she thinks she knows what type of words would melt Mazikeen’s seemingly black and stoney heart. In the end, going by elimination, she is left with three final options.  
  
“This one takes a _strong_ voice though,” she reasons out loud, pointing at _I Have Nothing_ by Whitney Houston. “Plus I love the lyrics, but maybe it’s too old-fashioned. This, on the other hand, is more upbeat and young. I think it suits you,” she continues, describing _A Thousand Miles_ by Vanessa Carlton.  
  
“Mmh.” Eve considers it, her chin perched on her joined hands, elbows on the table. “You know, I think I'll go with the third one you picked.”  
  
Chloe nods. Yeah, it’s a good choice. Probably should have led with that one.  
  
“Cool. I'll see you tomorrow night, then.”  
  
As according to plan, Eve shows up early to be able to hide backstage and not be seen by Maze. Chloe informed Dan about it, so Eve has been included in the line-up of the evening, while Lucifer has no idea of the surprise. It’s silly, because it’s not really about them, but Chloe is thrilled at the thought of organizing something he’s unaware of: he’s always the one blindsiding her, and the opposite rarely happens.  
  
Dan's improv and stand-up bar (cleverly named _The Dan of Laughs_) turns out to be as she imagined it, when she arrives with Ella, Maze, Trixie and Lucifer: warm tones, wooden chairs, maybe more exposed brickwork than expected. The actual bar is a modest thing, not as glossy and modern as the one of Lux or the penthouse, but Lucifer has been forbidden from pointing out the differences (sex might have been used as blackmail material, don’t judge).  
  
“What a _quaint_ little establishment, Daniel!” is the stilted, awkward greeting he settles on. “So… quirky. It’s certainly, uh… quite unique.”  
  
Dan clearly sees right through it, but lets it slide. “Thanks, man. I’m glad you could all make it.”  
  
“Booze is free tonight, right?” Maze jumps in, noisily chewing on a bright pink bubblegum.  
  
“Only the first drink, but yeah,” Dan replies, rolling his eyes before settling his gaze on Chloe and the plant she’s holding in her hands. “Is that… for me?”  
  
“Of course.” Chloe gives it to him and steps back, suddenly self-conscious. “I… I truly wish you all the best, Dan. I hope this turns out to be what you need.”  
  
“I'm so excited, dad!” Trixie leaves her side to go hug Dan. “Once I go to highschool, I'll be the badass girl with a dad who owns a cool bar and my parties will just be the best ever!”  
  
“Tsk, urchin, please. You have Lux for that,” Lucifer reminds her, then reconsiders. “Actually, you know what? Nevermind. By all means, invite your future obnoxious teenage friends _here_ instead. Yes, what a _marvellous_ idea.”  
  
“Smooth, dude. Real smooth,” Ella comments, shaking her head.  
  
Dan kisses the top of Trixie’s head, then looks back in Chloe’s direction. “Uhm, would you mind helping me pick a place to put this?” he asks, lifting the plant. “You guys can go sit – I reserved you a table near the stage, big enough for Linda and Amenadiel to join you, too.”  
  
“Oh, near the stage!” Lucifer repeats, fake glee dripping from every word. “That’s terrifyin–I mean terrific!” he saves himself at the last moment when Chloe glares at him. “Yes, that’s what I meant.”  
  
Chloe leaves the group at the entrance to follow Dan further inside the bar. But instead of stopping in the main area, where a few small round tables are scattered in front of the stage, her ex-husband leads her through a side door and a service corridor that clearly makes its way around the room to eventually end backstage.  
  
“Listen, if you don’t like the plant, you can just tell me,” she sulks. “You really had to let me know you plan on hiding it here where no one will see it?”  
  
“What? No!” Dan rounds on her and stops before the corridor turns right. “She’s freaking out, Chlo. Eve, I mean. And I don’t really… know her that much. I was hoping you could calm her down, since you’ve been spending more time with her lately.”  
  
“Oh.” So the plant thing was a lie – clever. “Yeah, I'll take care of it. You go back out there.”  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
Once he leaves, Chloe turns the corner and finds herself backstage, among levers, sound and light equipment and a few nervous performers pacing back and forth, each lost in his or her own anxious thoughts.  
  
One of them is indeed Eve, absolutely stunning in a pair of tight, black leather pants and a sleeveless top with a… quite generous decolletage, equally black and tucked inside the pants; so tight it feels like she’s wearing a one-piece suit instead of two items of clothing. The intention to catch Maze’s eye is endearingly obvious, especially once the woman turns and Chloe can see the heavy black make-up around her eyes. Which is all wet and smudged now, thanks to her tears.  
  
“Hey.” Chloe reaches her quickly, steadying her by the shoulders to halt her pacing. “Hey, what is going on?”  
  
“This is stupid!” Eve hiccups, brushing her tears away with one hand and making even more of a mess in the process. “What if she doesn’t even want to see me? I mean, why would she? I was horrible to her. I used her to make him jealous and I _knew_, deep down, that she was starting to have feelings for me. I didn’t appreciate it when _she_ did a grand gesture, and then she opened her heart to me and I–I crushed it. I left her there on the sidewalk and just… walked away. This won’t fix it. It’s just _dumb_ and I will make a fool of myself.”  
  
“Okay, first of all, stop crying.” Eve sniffles, then nods minutely. “Second: you’re right, Eve, this won’t fix it.”  
  
When Eve's eyes widen in surprise, Chloe elaborates, “This is only the beginning. Just… a way to let her know you want to try again. It can’t be a magical solution to all your problems, it shouldn’t be. But maybe she will give you a chance, and _then_ you can start working on fixing it. You know, together. By talking and figuring things out. Take it from someone who generally sucks at it: _communication_ is the key. So… this will tell her you are open to that. And if she isn’t, well… at least you will have no regrets. Does this make sense?”  
  
“Yeah.” Eve gives her a small, watery smile, but seems a bit surer of herself. “Yeah, you’re right. I just… I got used to being alone. I know I _can_ be, now. But I don’t _want_ to. I…” Her eyes turn pleading. “I want _her_, Chloe. And I'm terrified of finding out that it’s too late.”  
  
“You won’t know if you don’t try,” Chloe insists. “So get out there and sing your heart out, okay? And if it goes bad, well… you will have friends there to pick up the pieces.”  
  
The way Eve suddenly looks at her, as vulnerable as ever, makes her understand what she’s thinking without her having to say it. _Do you mean it? Are we really friends now?_  
  
“Yeah?” is what comes out of her mouth instead, but the message is the same.  
  
“Yeah,” Chloe replies, because it’s true. And acknowledging this feels like another puzzle piece clicking into place: another unresolved resentment being mended and overcome. _Let’s be happy_, she thinks, recalling Linda’s words. _Let’s just be_.  
  
Before leaving Eve backstage to go to her table, Chloe helps her remove the smudged mascara from around her eyes. The result is even better than before, in her opinion, because even the heavy eyeshadow Eve previously applied is now clearer. She doesn’t need any of this, not really; but if it gives her confidence, so be it.  
  
“Chloe?” Eve calls her then, reaching out to take her hand. “Chloe, thank you for this. No, for everything. For giving me a second chance.”  
  
Chloe squeezes her hand, then lets go, her reply a simple smile. She turns to leave, but stops. She knows, suddenly, what else there is to say – what else she _needs_ to say.  
  
“I need to thank you too, Eve.”  
  
God, it hurts to utter the next words, but it’s something she has to own up to.  
  
“Thank you for being there for him when he needed it the most. For being there for him when _I_ was not. I wasn’t ready for it back then. I wasn’t ready to… to love him and accept him. But you were. You always have been, since the beginning of time. And it has to count for something – no, it _does_. It means a lot to me, because it meant a lot to him. It kills me to think about how we _both_ hurt him, but… if _he_ has moved on, maybe we should, too. It’s time we forgive ourselves, and each other.”  
  
Will this ongoing therapy session ever end, she wonders? She’s giving so many speeches these days. Now the only one left to make up with is Dan, but… nope. Not yet. She’s not Mother-freaking-Theresa.  
  
“I just wanted him to be happy,” Eve tells her in response. “Well, I still do. But now I know that it won’t be with me, and that’s okay.” She turns sadder then, exhaling a long sigh. “If he really didn’t like himself when he was with me, then it’s better this way. I don’t want him to hate himself. He deserves better than that, and I do, too.”  
  
“I agree.” And when he _does_ hate himself, he deserves someone who will be there to tell him he’s wrong; someone who will cradle his burnt, hairless face in their hands and kiss every inch of it until red turns to pink, and some more after that.  
  
That’s what Chloe did when she went back to the penthouse after Dan found out; that’s what she does every time. When Lucifer smiles, after, he puts the sun to shame.  
  
After wishing Eve good luck, Chloe finally reaches her designated table. Linda and Amenadiel arrived in the meantime, and are now sitting with the rest of the group.  
  
“There you are!” Lucifer exclaims, wrapping one arm around her shoulders the moment she sits next to him. “Darling, what took you so long? For a moment there, I thought the douche had kidnapped you.”  
  
“Oh, we just… couldn’t make up our minds about the plant,” she shrugs, then leans into him. “Why, babe? Were you starting to miss me?”  
  
“_Desperately,_” Lucifer replies in kind. His arm solid and warm around her, he stays close to whisper, “I love it when you call me that, by the way.”  
  
“Ugh,” Maze complains, mimicking the act of shoving two fingers in her mouth to vomit. “You two need to come with a warning these days. All this sugar is going to make my teeth rot. Well, my human ones, that is.”  
  
_Let’s see how smug you’ll be at the end of the evening_, Chloe thinks, but takes the hit in silence instead.  
  
They all order something to drink, and slowly, the place starts to fill. To Lucifer’s dismay, most people are cops and friends of Dan instead of the Lux crowd he expected to divert here with his presence (“I blame it on poor advertising,” is his excuse), and before the stand-up performances can begin, the evening automatically turns into a small retirement party for Dan, something Chloe knows he actually wanted to avoid.  
  
Still, it’s more modest than it might have been at the precinct, especially if Ella had a say in it. Just a few pats on the back, beer bottles clinking, and a couple of generic, well-wishing speeches.  
  
With this out of the way, Dan calls Lucifer to the stage to open the actual event. A few jokes here, a couple of winks there, and the crowd loves him immediately: after all, he likes all the glitz and glamour of Lux, but he doesn’t necessarily _need_ it to be charming. The spotlight adores him, the stage even more, and in the absence of a piano, he makes do with a recorded instrumental track to perform a Bublé medley that probably shouldn’t be as delightful as it is.  
  
After that, it’s stand-up time. Dan doesn’t sit with them at the table, helping out the waiters or tending the bar, moving from place to place according to where he’s needed. The comedians are nothing special, clearly beginners dipping their toes in a smaller pool to take their first steps into this world; but the audience seems in a good mood, making the effort of cheering them on regardless of their missteps, and to Chloe’s immense joy, there isn’t even a single dick joke (which in Lucifer’s presence means dodging a bullet – the bullet being _more_ dick jokes).  
  
All in all, it’s going pretty well, but if there’s one person who can find something to complain, it’s Maze.  
  
“This is _boring_,” she announces as the fifth performer leaves the stage, sighing dramatically. “What is a demon supposed to do here? You guys even forced me to leave the tomatoes in the car! I mean, they could have been _knives_. Seriously, you should all grow a pair. I'm out.”  
  
Chloe panics as Maze makes to stand up from her chair. Ella, Linda and Trixie are also aware of Eve's intentions, so she looks at each of them in search of an excuse to make her stay, but finds equally clueless eyes staring back at her.  
  
In the end, Trixie is the one to speak, which is probably for the best given how she has Maze wrapped around her finger. “Maze, please, stay! Today is important for my dad, and–and if you leave now, you won’t get to make fun of the worst guys later at home! We could rank them and all, it will be fun!”  
  
Mazikeen of the Lilim, mighty torturer of Hell, settles back into her seat and crosses her arms over her chest. “Only because you asked nicely, spawn,” she grumbles, which they all pretend to believe.  
  
Chloe knows Dan put Eve at the end of the line-up, to open and close the evening with a musical number. Another half hour goes by before the last comedian leaves the stage: that’s when Dan meets her gaze from across the dim-lit room and winks, letting her know it’s time.  
  
“I have the feeling you are hiding something from me, Detective,” Lucifer whispers in her ear, after probably having noticed the interaction. “Should I be worried?”  
  
“Never.” Chloe kisses his cheek, snuggling closer into his embrace. “It’s just a surprise.”  
  
“Oh, _love_ me a good surprise. Especially if it’s of the naughty variety.” His brow furrows. “Hold on, are you two plotting something of the sort? A Douchiferstar threesome, perhaps? My, my, I wonder what our good Doctor here would say of such a _drastic_ method for conflict resolution.”  
  
“Lucifer, _stop talking_.” Good Lord, Trixie is right next to them. Whatever Ella is currently showing her on her phone, Chloe is extremely grateful for it.  
  
“By the way, I would say ‘Good for you, Chloe,’” Linda intervenes, winking. Amenadiel looks extremely uncomfortable at the implication, but then again that’s his default setting most of the time.  
  
And then, finally, Eve appears on stage. Lucifer is surprised, of course, but Chloe’s attention is on Maze. The demon’s mouth stays parted as Eve walks up to the mic in the center, swallowing in evident dread. The two are looking at each other across the room, but Maze's jaw is clenched when she whispers, “Did you people know about this?”  
  
“Nooo!” Ella answers out of sheer terror.  
  
“Yes,” Chloe, Linda and Trixie contradict her at the same time. Ella glares at them, then points a finger toward Maze and silently reenacts how she imagines the demon will kill them (which suspiciously looks like Darth Vader using the Force against rebellious Stormtroopers; a knowledge _also_ provided by Ella).  
  
“Maze, just listen to what she has to say,” Chloe whispers once she’s done. Maze’s expression is still murderous, but eventually, her friend nods.  
  
On the stage, Eve clears her throat, then speaks. “Uhm, hi, everyone! My name is Eve, and I will be singing a song for you tonight. Well, more like for _one_ of you, in fact. Someone I hope will want me back into her life, even though I treated her unfairly. Maze, this is for you.”  
  
She nods to the side, to someone in charge of the music Chloe can’t see from her position, then starts to sing.

  
  
_Remember those walls I built_

_Well, baby, they're tumbling down_

_And they didn't even put up a fight_

_They didn't even make a sound_   
  
_I found a way to let you win_

_But I never really had a doubt_

_Standing in the light of your halo_

_I got my angel now_

  
  
“Is this why you went to her house the other day?” Lucifer whispers in her ear as Eve's _amazing_ voice glides over the notes. “To help her with this?”  
  
“Mh-mh,” Chloe mumbles absentmindedly, eyes glued to the stage. But she hears his smile even if she can’t see it, and when she turns toward him, she finds him staring at her.  
  
“I love you,” Lucifer says with the same awe as the very first time. “I just really, _really_ love you.”

  
  
_It's like I've been awakened_

_Every rule I had you breaking_

_It's the risk that I'm taking_

_I ain't never gonna shut you out_   
  
_Everywhere I'm looking now_

_I'm surrounded by your embrace_

_Baby, I can see your halo_

_You know you're my saving grace_   
  
_You're everything I need and more_

_It's written all over your face_

_Baby, I can feel your halo_

_Pray it won't fade away_

  
  
Eve’s voice is more confident than Chloe expected, but her face betrays all her insecurities. Next to her around the table, Maze looks frozen, a statue unable to even breathe. Judging what she’s feeling seems impossible, such is the whirlwind of emotions she’s going through.

  
  
_Hit me like a ray of sun_

_Burning through my darkest night_

_You're the only one that I want_

_Think I'm addicted to your light_   
  
_I swore I'd never fall again_

_But this don't even feel like falling_

_Gravity can't forget_

_To pull me back to the ground again_

  
  
The lyrics repeat themselves over and over until the performance comes to an end. Everyone except for Maze claps, mesmerized by Eve's talent and heartfelt rendition of the song. It’s the moment of truth, and although the other patrons don’t know who the gesture was for, they’re all clearly waiting for someone to stand up, for something to happen in response.  
  
“Maze?” Linda whispers, gently placing one hand on her shoulder. Mazikeen jerks as if someone just woke her up, startling them all. When she stands up, her fists are clenched at her sides, and the sharp line of her jaw doesn’t promise anything good.  
  
There’s a second in which Chloe fears she’ll just turn around and walk out, leaving Eve utterly humiliated. But then, Maze starts walking toward the stage instead, weaving her way through the tables. From the corner where the bar is, even Dan is watching the scene unfold, his eyes hopeful.  
  
“Maze,” Eve says her name almost in apology, taking a step back at the thunderous expression on the other woman’s face, “Maze, I'm–”  
  
_..sorry_, most likely, but they will never know. Because the moment Maze reaches Eve, she takes her face in her hands and kisses her passionately. For a second, Eve is so shocked she can’t even respond, but she recovers quickly, placing her own hands on Maze’s cheeks and melting into the kiss.  
  
“_Yaaas!_ Go, queens!” Ella shouts with a fist in the air, her other hand already busy filming it all with her smartphone. “Romance for the win, hell yeah!”  
  
Trixie laughs and claps, same as the rest of the audience, and Chloe and Linda share a relieved look across the table. Then Chloe looks up at Lucifer, smiling at the pride she finds in his eyes.  
  
“Well _done_, Detective,” the Devil congratulates her, as young and joyful as he must have looked under the shade of a forbidden tree. “Well done, indeed.”


	17. How to... help him come to terms with mortality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s hard to keep your immortal boyfriend from freaking out when he’s suddenly reminded of how very human you are.

It happens as most things do with him: out of the blue, and starting as a small, seemingly innocuous issue that is bound to grow into an avalanche instead. So small, in fact, that the source of it couldn’t be less intimidating if it tried; something that, one would think, should be extremely low (if there at all) on the list of threats the literal Devil has to worry about.

Demons, other celestials, God Himself; the Yakuza, One Million Moms, Nephilim babysitting duties (last one kinda goes against the point, but you know how he is).

But no, it’s none of those; and unlike most of them, it does not come from Heaven nor Hell.

Chloe and Lucifer are in her bathroom, getting ready for the day. One that _should_ be as any other, but life will soon prove Chloe wrong on that one.

Getting ready mostly equals watching _him_ get ready while she does, and it’s a ritual she still has to get tired of. The product in his hair, the light make-up around his eyes, the shirt and the suit and the cufflinks – she can’t help but think about how, though in many different versions according to the times, this is something he’s been doing for centuries every time he’s been to Earth. Something that, she presumes, makes him feel closer to the humans he loves to surround himself with, because certainly no angel would bother with straightening their hair and fashion, she suspects, goes deeply unappreciated down in Hell.

It’s endearing, really. Endearing and sort of hypnotizing.

“I see you there, Detective,” Lucifer’s voice startles her, his grin reflected in the mirror where they can both be seen, standing side by side. “Admiring the view, are we?”

Chloe shrugs – it doesn’t embarrass her anymore, not now that the view is hers to enjoy. “What can I say, it’s a nice view.”

“Likewise.”

They smile at each other like the two fools that they are, and go back to their morning routine, which in Chloe’s case now involves brushing her hair before tying it up into a ponytail. Once she’s done with the first task, she takes out her elastic band, leaves the brush on the counter and proceeds to style her hair with her usual speed and efficiency (the bangs always give her a “messy on purpose” kind of vibe anyway).

Satisfied with the result, she looks at Lucifer almost distractedly – and finds him staring down at a specific point in the space between them. Whatever it is, he’s looking at it so intently he stopped fussing with _his_ own hair, which certainly tickles Chloe’s curiosity.

It’s her hairbrush, she realizes, but still doesn’t understand what’s so fascinating about it. All she can see are a few strands caught in its teeth, the blonder ones standing out against the black plastic underneath.

“Lucifer?” she calls him, starting to reach out and touch his shoulder. “What are you–”

“I have to go,” he blurts out, twitching out of her reach. “I–I have things to do. At Lux. I just–I only remembered now.”

Okay, what? “Lux is closed this early in the morning, and we have to go to the precinct. What’s going on with you?!”

He bristles, as if she had no right even _asking_ him the reason why he suddenly decided to stand her up with the lamest excuse ever.

“Well, it might be, but I can go and open it whenever I bloody desire. Isn’t that the whole point of _owning_ the place?”

Chloe crosses her arms over her chest. “You just can’t tell me what’s the matter, can you? You just _have_ to be difficult and make it harder than it has to be.”

“Nothing’s the matter, and I'm not being difficult! Everything’s just _dandy_, Detective!” Lucifer tells her _as he backs away and toward the door_. “Just–let me know if anyone’s dead and I'll join you as soon as I can, yes? See you later, alligator!” Which, just–_no_.

And then he’s gone. As in, via wings, with a whoosh, leaving her blinking and staring at nothing – an early problem in their relationship (the easy angelic bolting) she _thought_ was solved for good.

What an asshole.

Fuming, Chloe glares at her hairbrush as if the object could actually be at fault. And that’s when she sees it.

There is white, too, among the blonde. One single strand, more likely due to stress than actual aging, although that’s something that is certainly happening, too. Did he… forget? That it’s, well, a thing?

No, of course he didn’t forget, she chastises herself, her anger subsiding. He just… manages not to think about it most of the time, and was probably doing a fairly good job at it until it slapped him in the face.

Sighing, Chloe finishes getting ready and walks back into the bedroom to pick up her phone from where it’s charging on the nightstand.

_Don’t freak out on me_, she texts him. _It’s okay_.

Lucifer reads the message, but doesn’t reply.

  
  
_ What to do: _

_1\. Put your foot down while you can (aging, remember?)_

She’s skipping her lunch break to go see what the hell he’s up to, because of course there were no new bodies, just paperwork, so she couldn’t even find a reason for him to join her as he said he would if need be. So, yeah, she’s pissed. Lucifer insists she eats garbage for lunch unless he’s the one ordering food to be delivered to the station, but Chloe _wanted_ that stale vending machine sandwich. And instead, it now sits inside her bag, because while it’s true that she could have eaten it while driving it’s also true that her stomach has been in knots the whole time.

She’s not exactly _mad_ at him, it’s just… it’s the not-talking that she hates. They have come too far to revert back to old, ineffective ways, and she thought he felt comfortable enough to discuss everything with her at this point aside from strictly therapy-related subjects.

Turns out a hair was all it took to prove her wrong.

She expects to find him freaking out, considering the way he reacted in the morning (which thankfully doesn’t involve getting married in Vegas anymore – God, she _hopes_). But once the doors of the penthouse elevator open, the sight greeting her isn’t one she could have anticipated.

The floor, the couches, the bar, the table: everything is covered in books and scrolls she doesn’t want to know the actual age of just in case she steps on something to later find out she just destroyed a literal piece of history. Still, for good measure, Chloe moves carefully among the tomes in front of her, slowly finding a safe path to walk further in.

She doesn’t really see Lucifer, not at first, but her ears are still working (she’s not _old_ yet, no matter the kind of frenzy he might be in) and his “Well, what a fat load of _bollocks_” places him high on the ladder he uses to reach the top shelf of the library along the left wall of the apartment.

When he throws a book (probably the one that offended him) over his shoulder, the thing nearly hits Chloe on the head, but luckily her reflexes are _also_ in pretty good shape, thank you very much.

“Lucifer? What are you doing up there?” _And everywhere else, really_.

His head spins in her direction, before he quickly makes his way down the ladder. The messiness of his hair is all Chloe needs to see to immediately know the state of mind he’s in, and it only gets worse once he lands on the floor in front of her and rakes a nervous hand through it.

“Detective, I–I didn’t expect to see you here! What am I doing? Just a bit of historical research, that’s all! Can’t a Devil enjoy a morning of light reading every once in a while?”

She wouldn’t exactly call it _light_ by the looks of it, but it’s the word “research” that gives her pause. She looks down at the closest books scattered around her: some titles are in other languages, but the vaguely esoteric illustrations on the covers give her at least an inkling.

“What are you researching?” she asks him with an arched eyebrow. Hopefully, he won’t figure out a way to obfuscate the truth with a question so direct.

Lucifer fidgets: he reaches down with one hand to play with a cufflink, only to suddenly realize he rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. He ends up twisting his ring instead, but the result is not as smooth as he was probably hoping.

He clears his throat. “Ways to, uh… grant… immortality. To–to humans.”

Of course. A proportionate and sensible reaction to finding _one_ white hair in a brush. But one thing at a time.

“Wait, you can _do_ that?”

“Well, that’s what I'm trying to find out!” Lucifer replies, throwing his hands in the air. He starts walking around her to collect specific books from the floor, talking all the while. “So far, I feel like I hit a bit of a snag. Unless you’re fine with the idea of turning into a demon, that is, but I would have to track down Lilith, wherever the bloody hell it is that she went and–” He flinches on the spot at the glare Chloe gives him. “No? No, yeah, didn’t think so. Dreadful idea, that one.”

More books picked up from the floor, more words out of his mouth, “Reincarnation into a new body, Abel-style? Maybe even into your own, like Eve! You’re a miracle after all, perhaps that could work. Or a life elixir? Seems like gobbledygook to me, but can’t hurt to try! All we need is–”

“Lucifer.” Chloe places her hand on his where he’s clutching the leather-bound tomes to his chest. He looks up. “Come with me, let’s sit.”

She leads him to one of the couches, where she carefully clears a spot for both of them. Lucifer leaves the books he collected on the glass table and sits next to her, looking like a boy ready to be scolded after he did something wrong.

Chloe touches his hand again, but this time, she grips it tightly in her own.

“Listen, if this is about me aging… about, well, appearances or–or _physical_ attraction down the line… I get it, okay? I don’t _like_ that we won’t age together, but I will understand, alright? There’s no need to–”

“What? No! This isn’t about that, Detective!” Lucifer’s eyes are wide. “You’d be surprised to know how many members of the senile population I've made happier in my lifetime before they popped off. Lux and the penthouse were quite the expensive purchase and I still had to establish my network of favors and connections, so, you know… needs must, as they say! I would have no issue being with you, love, no matter how wrinkly.”

“Oh, good. Yeah, that’s–that’s nice,” Chloe stammers, because, uh, weird, but good to know.

Lucifer cups her cheek with the hand she isn’t holding. “This is about being with you for as long as I can, my darling. That’s all.”

Chloe lifts her hand to keep his there where he put it. “But Lucifer, I will. I _will_ be with you for as long as I can.”

“But it could be _longer_!” he snaps, completely moving away from her, scooting further along the couch. “It doesn’t have to end, not if I can find a way to make it so! Don’t you get it?”

He buries his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees, and exhales shakily. Chloe quietly slides closer to him again until their legs are touching.

“Hey, look at me.” When he doesn’t, her voice turns more serious. “_Please_.”

This time he complies, but he’s _angry_ at her. And Chloe gets it, she does. But it’s not as simple as he would like it to be, even if there _was_ a way.

“Lucifer, did it ever occur to you that I might… not… want that?” she whispers, then hurries to elaborate further when his face crumbles. “Immortality, I mean. You need to understand, you were _born_ that way. But it’s… it’s too much, for me. The idea of having no end in sight, it–it terrifies me, if I'm honest. Of course I hope my life won’t end _too_ soon like my dad’s, but… isn’t it _supposed_ to end? Isn’t that how things are supposed to be?”

Lucifer considers it for a moment, his tense shoulders relaxing ever-so-slightly. “But it doesn’t end. Not really. And if all goes as it should, I… where you’ll go, I won’t be able to follow.” His face scrunches up in that way that kills her a bit inside, every time. “Isn’t that unfair?”

“It is.” She cups his cheeks, pulling him close. “It _so_ is, and I hope that – if it’s what you want, I mean – that one day, maybe you’ll be able to come… see me.” In _Heaven_ – wow, it’s still so strange to picture. “But Lucifer, this…” She gestures at the mess around them, “this isn’t the solution. I don’t want you to obsess over this, it’s not right. And I'm sorry, but I don’t think I'll change my mind about it.”

She has thought about it, of course. After all, it’s the elephant in the room, one they’ll have to learn to live with.

Maybe others would jump at the chance. Most people, even, who knows. She’s just not one of those people, and even though it breaks her heart to deny him, she can’t help the shiver that runs down her spine every time she tries to picture herself like him, unchanging while the world keeps spinning. Marcus (no, _Cain_) always comes to mind, and… while it’s true that the prospect of being with her made him reconsider his desire to die, it’s also true that he had _wanted_ to.

Because how long can anyone last, how long can the world excite you before you realize you’ve seen and done it all when it’s engraved in you, in your very own DNA, that this isn’t in your nature?

And what then? What if Lucifer does find a way, but that day comes? The day she has to tell him to his face that his love is not enough for her to want to keep living?

She can’t do this to herself, to him, to them. She won’t.

A part of her even wishes _he_ could grow old so she wouldn’t have to contemplate all that. But since she needs him to accept what she is, she also has to do the same with him and what _he_ is.

It’s the deal they signed up for. It’s the hand of cards fate gave them to play, and there can’t always be a trick up your sleeve to save you from losing. Which is something she knows Lucifer struggles to accept, what with being a powerful archangel and all, always used to finding a loophole or magical artifact to bend the rules of the universe to his will. But Chloe is human, and _her_ world, regardless of the recent changes it went through, is not the one he comes from.

Lucifer looks down at his lap, despite the hands trying to make him look at her instead. “I'm sorry,” he mumbles. “For running away this morning, and for this.”

Chloe kisses his forehead, since it’s the only thing she can reach. “It’s okay. I'm not mad.”

Well, she sort of was, but… it’s not fair to resent him this, and it’s impossible to stay mad at him when he’s as vulnerable as he is right now.

“I know how this looks,” he continues, but Chloe doesn’t understand until he explains. “Please, don’t think it’s about you not being enough or–or having to be any different. It’s about _me_ and I'll deal with it.”

He tries to get up from the couch, but Chloe doesn’t let him. “_We_ will deal with it,” she corrects him. “Together.”

Finally, he gives her a smile – that small one that makes a dimple appear in his stubbled cheek and his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“Together,” he echoes as their foreheads touch.

  
  
_2\. Teach him about the inconveniences of the human condition_

“This is a _very_ violent movie,” Lucifer comments from where he’s sitting on the couch in Chloe’s living room, a huge bowl of homemade popcorn in his lap for Chloe and Trixie to eat from. They’re sitting on either side of him, and the lights are off around them except for the one of the TV itself.

“I'm sorry, this is what now?” Chloe asks in disbelief, her hand in mid-air on its way to her mouth. “Whatever happened to _Body Bags_, ninjas ripping hearts out of people’s chests and all that bloodshed? You can’t tell me this is worse than that.”

And fine, okay, it _is_ a violent movie but Trixie insisted because all her friends have been talking about it since the day it came out on Netflix, and Chris Hemsworth is in it, and sometimes Chloe just likes watching a hot guy shoot things up without worrying about the plot because he is, like, probably not human either in his own way. She usually prefers dark-haired men (no shit) but _damn_.

“Oh, it isn’t, you’re right about that. But lately I’ve realized… are these movies really beneficial to the good of humanity, Detective? I fear they make you all quite reckless, in fact. Look!” Lucifer points at the screen. “Driving with no seatbelts on through the slums of Dhaka while angry snipers are chasing you? That’s just bloody foolish if you ask me. Doesn’t really set up a good example as far as safety is concerned.”

Ah. Chloe gets what this is about, suddenly.

“Dude, it’s a _movie_,” Trixie deadpans. “We know we are not supposed to do that stuff. It’s just that in movies the main guy almost never dies.”

“Oh.” Lucifer clears his throat awkwardly. “Yes, I suppose that makes sense. Still, you buckle up out there, alright offspring?”

Trixie giggles. “You’re so _weird_.”

Lucifer opens his mouth to object, but a noise coming from upstairs stops him. A… really loud noise. No, a really loud _moan_.

“Oh, no.” Chloe covers her face with her hands. She _so_ should have seen this coming when those two ran up the stairs together.

“Oh, _yes_,” Lucifer corrects her, his grin full of glee. He brings one hand behind his ear as if trying to listen in, neck straining. “Yep, that’s the swing, guaranteed.”

“How do you–ah, you know what, nevermind.” ‘Cause it should be impossible with the volume of the TV set up as high as it is, but Lucifer's hearing abilities might be above average – _or_ he’s just that good at recognizing what any specific sex act sounds like because he’s, you know, him.

“Eve and Maze are using Maze’s swing?” Trixie lights up. “I loved that thing, why did you ask her to move it, mom?”

“Yes, Detective, why _did_ you ask her to move it, mm? That is quite the mystery, indeed.”

Chloe throws a popcorn in Lucifer’s face. It bounces off his nose, which is kind of hilarious.

“You’re supposed to be on _my_ side, you know,” she scolds him, but there is no real anger in it.

He chuckles, then shifts closer to her until he can whisper directly in her ear. “I promise I'll be on your side next time if you give me the green light to get a swing of our own.” Her breath hitches, the reaction rewarded with a soft kiss to her cheek. “Lovely, I'll take that as a yes.” And then he retreats as if nothing happened, the three of them a perfect picture of domestic bliss.

It doesn’t last long.

“Mom, I don’t feel so good,” Trixie informs her all of a sudden, one hand stroking horizontally across her stomach. “I–I think I'm gonna–”

And then she bolts from the couch, straight to the bathroom, _just_ in time before the vomiting starts. Small mercies.

“Oh, dear.” Lucifer pauses the movie and looks at Chloe with wide eyes. “Is she okay?”

“Let me go check on her.”

Chloe runs after Trixie into the bathroom to find her hunched over the toilet. She gathers her hair behind her neck, then helps her wash her mouth and face and makes her sit on the closed lid. Trixie’s forehead isn’t hot to the touch, but Chloe still decides to check her temperature, so she fetches the thermometer from the medicine cabinet and gives it to her to stick it between her lips.

Lucifer appears at the door just as the device starts to beep, his body leaning against the frame.

“Good, no fever,” Chloe announces after looking down at the small screen, kneeling in front of Trixie. She strokes her cheek and pushes her hair out of her eyes. Her daughter’s skin is clammy and paler than usual, and her expression is one of utter misery. “Could be a stomach bug. Or maybe something you ate upset you, baby? What did you have at the party?”

Trixie was at her friend Kyle’s birthday party before Chloe went to get her and brought her home for dinner and movie night. The girl is not allergic to anything as far as they know, but the danger of too much chocolate cake is always around the corner especially when Chloe and Dan are not looking.

“Uhm, mostly chips and sandwiches.” Trixie looks up in thought. “Oh, and a lot of mini hot dogs? I thought they tasted kinda funny, but Sean said he could eat more than me and we turned it into a competition. And I won!”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Chloe sighs, and it’s only at this point that understanding dawns on Trixie, her smile disappearing from her face.

“Oh.”

“Guess I should call Sean’s mom then, and probably Kyle’s, too.” _Many thanks for the gift, Brenda, really, you shouldn’t have!_ “But let’s get you to bed first. I'll put a trash can next to your bed in case you feel sick again. Lucifer, can you go get her a glass of water? No, scratch that: _coconut_ water, even better.”

She turns to find him checking his _phone_, of all things. “Lucifer!”

“Yes!” The phone almost slips from his grip when he jumps on the spot. “Coconut water for the spawn, coming right up!” And off he goes. Well, at least he was listening.

Chloe takes Trixie to her room, helps her into her pyjamas and tucks her in. “Come in!” she calls out when Lucifer knocks. He does, then places the glass on Trixie’s nightstand, a deer-in-headlights look on his face. Frowning at him, Chloe assures Trixie they’ll stay close by if she needs anything, then leads Lucifer out the door.

“What’s up with you?” she whispers once they’re out of earshot. “It’s food poisoning, alright? I guess the hot dogs were bad, it happens. You won’t catch anything, I promise.”

His first and only time didn’t go so well, when he tragically discovered that his vulnerability made him susceptible to catching the stomach flu from her, on top of his temporary mortality. To his credit, in the beginning he heroically offered to stick around and ride out the fever with her, but then he threw up and decided it was the most awful thing that ever happened to him in his life – Fall excluded, barely – and retreated to the penthouse to immediately heal.

Which, you know, fair. Chloe would jump at the opportunity, too, if she had it! But he doesn’t have to worry about it now, so…

“But she–she'll be fine, right? Shouldn’t we call a… children’s doctor? Take her to the hospital?” Lucifer turns his phone toward her, showing her what he was looking at before, Chloe realizes. “According to the Internet, vomit can be a symptom for many things, Detective. Ulcer, appendicitis, a concussion, _ebola_! What if she hit her head and doesn’t remember? Has any of her friends visited the African continent lately? I mean, how do you _know_ what it is and what to do? How can you be sure?”

“Okay, first of all, checking the Internet?” Chloe grabs his phone and shoves it in her pocket. “Bad idea if you don’t know when to stop looking. Secondly… we figured it out, yeah? It’s none of those things. And if it gets worse, sure, we’ll take her to the doctor, but usually it just runs its course.” She tilts her head to the side, considering him. “But this… isn’t just about Trixie, is it?”

Lucifer shakes his head from side to side and looks down at the floor. Chloe lifts his chin with her index finger and smiles at him.

“Talk to me?” she prods gently. “We said ‘together’, remember?”

This time, he nods. The moment would be very solemn, if it wasn’t for Maze and Eve still going at it in the background like the world is ending. Chloe could blame the thin walls, but she’s not sure thicker ones would actually make that much of a difference. All she can do is try to focus on Lucifer and ignore the soundtrack, just like he must be doing.

“I'm just trying to understand, Detective. How… all of this works. I want to take care of you, and I'm not sure I know what it _means_. Injuries, that I get. But sickness? Disease? I never had to worry about those, and now…”

And now, he has to. Because _she_ will grow old and experience them. And he wants to know what to do, for her.

“No one has all the answers,” she tells him, her heart swelling at the sentiment. “Well, doctors have _most_ of them, and I… I'll be there, okay? I am not a child, so I can tell you what I'm feeling and what you can do to help me. Kids are the tricky ones, and we established we are having none of those, right?”

Lucifer chuckles. “Yeah, that we did.” His gaze shifts to the side, through the gap left open by Trixie’s door. “What about young Beatrice? What’s the appropriate course of action to make a human child heal from, uh… bad hot dog syndrome?”

Chloe snorts. They are _so_ calling it this from now on, it’s settled.

“She just needs to stay hydrated, especially if she starts having diarrhea, too.” Lucifer pales at the possibility, but bless his heart, he’s trying, so she lets it slide. “And we should, well… replace the trash can next to her bed when she, you know…”

He swallows. “Do I–do you want me to take care of that?”

Chloe almost tells him yes, just to see the expression on his face. But he’s being too adorable for her to toy with him without feeling guilty.

“No,” she says around a small laugh, “no, I will. I think I'll sleep in her bed, and tomorrow if it stops I'll see if she manages to keep down something light. You could… be on hydration duties? Keep her glass full so she doesn’t have to get up?”

Lucifer almost bounces on his feet at the realization that he can make himself useful, then rewards her with a military salute and an overly enthusiastic “Yes, ma'am!”

Chloe kisses that stupid, beautiful grin of his right off his face, then goes to check on her sick little monkey.

Clueless angel or not, she knows she couldn’t have asked for a better partner, on the job and in her life.

  
  
_3\. Do your best not to die (easy, right?)_

This time, there really is no way to avoid him freaking out on her. Because to be honest, if the roles were reversed, Chloe would do the same.

They are chasing two people through an old, abandoned power plant – and so, they split up. As much as Chloe hates the comparison, Lucifer is like a hunting dog once she sends him on his way with a clear target in mind; shoulders straight, eyes red and blazing, a determination in his steps she knows people find unsettling, something other coursing through his veins that humans, without fully understanding why, shy away from on instinct.

She’s past wondering if it’s right to “let him loose” on people like this. As a matter of fact, her supervision over the years has been the one thing stopping him from doing things he might regret. She has always succeeded in getting through to him, ever since the very beginning of their partnership: far from her to take too much credit, but would the Spider have all four limbs still attached to his body if it wasn’t for her? Would Ty Huntley’s agent? Jacob Tiernan himself?

There is a balance between them, a certain way things work: he challenges her to take risks, to consider unusual angles and possibilities; she reminds him that some rules ought to be followed, or there will be no more risks to take and no new angles to consider to begin with.

Upset the balance, and what you have is the Detective she used to be – good by all standards, but not as exceptional as she can be with him – and the Devil he used to be, too reckless to worry about the ramifications of his actions.

And they have reached a point, now, where she doesn’t need to physically be with Lucifer for him to rein himself in. But regardless of that, being alone has its dangers, and today Chloe gets reminded of it the hard way.

She always wears a bulletproof vest in these circumstances, ever since the shooting at the loft. Lucifer was so relieved to find it under her shirt that later, when they got together, he begged her to make it standard procedure not just for warrant searches and coordinated police operations (she did ask him the same, but ruining the lines of his shirt for a temporary death? No can do, it seems).

Still, it’s not a total lifesaver, and sometimes it _does_ show in quite the obvious way. Which is probably the reason her clever murderer of the day aimed for her leg instead, and shot.

The pain of a bullet tearing through her flesh is something she knows, sadly, but it’s still pretty fucking unbearable. The silver lining is that it doesn’t incapacitate her, at least, so she’s able to call backup to go after the shooter and an ambulance for herself, her free hand pressing over the wound to slow down the bleeding.

By the time Lucifer circles back to where she is, Chloe is already on a gurney, a group of paramedics fussing around her to get her ready to be hauled in. She glimpses Lucifer through the gaps between their bodies, but she realizes he hasn’t seen _her_ instead, arriving at the scene with sweat on his forehead, dirt on his suit and a big, proud smile on his face.

“Detective!” she hears him call her, “Detective, I caught him! What’s all this–” And then she sees him, sees the moment the color and joy drain from his features. “No, no, no, please, _please_, no!”

“Lucifer!” Chloe weakly pushes a few paramedics out of the way so he can see that she’s fine, despite what the commotion around her might suggest. “Lucifer, over here!”

She’s not sure whether the hurry in his steps is superhuman in nature, or just pure worry. He’s at her side in the blink of an eye, his gaze frantically flitting about her until it lands on the source of her misery, where one leg of her jeans has been cut to wrap a bandage around her thigh.

“What happened? Are you okay?” He turns to the paramedics. “Will she be okay?”

“I'm fine,” Chloe tells him before any of them can reply. She takes his face in her hands and turns it back to her. “Look at me, Lucifer, I'm _fine_.”

Lucifer is shaking and terrified and despite being the injured one, Chloe can’t help the urge to wrap him up in a hug and have him curl around her on the stretcher, but he wouldn’t even fit. It breaks her heart to see it, because she knows what he’s going through: when he almost bled to death on the floor of Lux, and when later they carried him away on an ambulance, he looked so weak and helpless it was jarring. It’s almost as if they see each other as invincible, and it’s scary to be reminded they’re not. Especially for him.

“I shouldn’t have left you alone,” he croaks, holding her hand and using the other to stroke her hair. “This is my fault, I should have helped you–” Something changes in his eyes, the line of his jaw hardening. “Wait. Where is _he_? Did he get away?”

Remember when Chloe said she can count on him containing himself even without her being there? Yeah, good luck with that now.

Red eyes stare at her where warm brown was a moment ago, waiting for an answer. Waiting for… permission. Chloe stares back just as fiercely – she’s not the Chloe who would look away, anymore.

“I sent unis after him, they’ll find him.” She tightens her grip on his hand. “Ride in the ambulance with me? I don’t wanna be alone.”

It works immediately. A switch being flipped.

“Of course, love.” He smiles to himself, as if sobering up, and blinks away the hellish red. “Of course.”

He’s calm in the ambulance, distracting her with his usual jokes and chit chat; not exactly at his best, but enough to ease her into a sense of calm as well. He calls Dan for her, puts him on speaker, and together Chloe and her ex-husband agree that it’s better not to overwhelm and scare Trixie by picking her up early from school unexpectedly: the procedure to remove the bullet, she has been told, shouldn’t have any complications. Dan tells her he'll bring Trixie to the hospital in the evening, and asks Lucifer to keep him posted before hanging up.

It all goes fine until Lucifer is forced to be separated from her so she can be taken to the OR.

“Detective, just distract them for a moment so I can pluck a feather out!” he whispers in her ear just outside the swinging metal doors he won’t be allowed through. “Easy peasy Devil squeezy!”

“Easy peasy _nothing_ squeezy,” Chloe objects through gritted teeth. “Good luck justifying it to all these people, and besides, will it actually remove the bullet or just seal the wound shut?”

“Uhm… probably the second one,” Lucifer admits, defeated.

“I figured. Well, off I go then. I'll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

When she brings his face close to hers and kisses him, she plans a short, reassuring peck; but Lucifer keeps her there longer, inhaling sharply through his nose with his eyes shut tight, so she kisses back until he’s ready to let go.

Chloe wakes in her hospital room a few hours later, a scene so similar to one she has already lived. To two, if she includes the poisoning. The ache in her limbs, the pain where they cut her open and patched her up, the sleepiness and slowness in her muscles – and _him_, once again, always. Him sitting at her bedside, waiting for her to open her eyes. She could get used to it.

And yet, it’s slightly different this time. _He_ is. Maybe because he wasn’t in love with her, back when Jimmy Barnes shot her: he told her he saved her life because she was _far too interesting to let die, and wildly irritating as well_. A joke, of course, but with some truth in it. _This_ Lucifer, instead… this Lucifer can barely stand the thought.

“How many years have I been out this time?” Chloe teases him, taking in a redness around his eyes that has nothing to do with the Devil’s wrath, and everything to do with the fear in his heart. “Three or more?”

“Chloe,” Lucifer chokes out from the chair he’s sitting on, though not for long: suddenly he’s standing and climbing into bed with her, careful not to touch her injured leg. Chloe laughs at his impatience and moves so he can lie down on his side, suit and shoes and everything, and wrap an arm around her middle. “_Chloe_.”

She strokes his hair where he buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in, and plants a kiss in it.

“You checked the Internet again, didn’t you?”

“No!” A pause. “Okay, yes. Apparently many, many things can go wrong even during the easiest of surgeries and…” He sighs into her skin. “And I got scared.”

“Well, none of those things happened, so you can stop being scared now.”

Lucifer lifts his head to look at her. “Can I?”

The million-dollar question, really. Can anyone ever? So many things _can_ go wrong, even not taking into account the kind of job she does. But such is life. Such is _human_ life.

And the Devil was cursed with loving one.

“Hey, I always wear the vest, like you asked,” Chloe tries to lighten the mood, choking a little on the inside. “And you know I try my best to be careful.”

“If I had a dollar for all the times you've willingly stood in front of a gunman to talk him down, Detective, I might have opened Lux Vegas by now,” Lucifer teases her back, finally smiling at her even though his eyes are still watery and bright. “But sure, let’s go with that.”

“What can I say, hotheads listen to me.” She raises an eyebrow at him. “You should know.”

Lucifer kisses her cheek. “Touché.”

When she returns home a week later, she finds Dan, Trixie, Maze and Eve waiting for her in the living room. Trixie makes to jump into her arms the moment Chloe is within reach, but stops right in time, probably remembering a talk her father gave her about being gentle. The thought that she should be used to it by now feels wrong, so Chloe is actually glad her daughter regularly forgets how to act around a person with a gunshot wound. It’s almost refreshing.

“Chloe!” Eve hugs her with a fierceness that shows no one actually gave _her_ a talk, but thankfully the surgery was done on the opposite leg from where she’s standing. “I'm so glad you’re okay!”

“Thanks,” Chloe smiles at her timidly, still finding her footing around her.

“Cool to have you back, Decker,” Maze grunts from right behind her – the two have become inseparable already, which would be very cute if it wasn’t for the kinky sex at completely random hours. God, so much sex. How is Eve managing to keep her job, not to mention _walk_?

Lucifer closes the front door behind him, carrying a bag containing her stuff and the clothes he has been bringing her to the hospital during the week. Dan has been in charge of Trixie instead: to each their own, and it’s a simple but comforting thing – that Chloe can count on them in different ways, and that there is rarely any overlap or disagreement. Granted, Lucifer isn’t keen on the whole “stepDevil business”, as he likes to call it, so it’s not like he’s the kind of boyfriend to try and take her daughter’s father’s place.

Said father waves awkwardly at Chloe, their relationship still on the mend after his discovery of Lucifer’s 100% genuine Devilishness led to many more secrets being uncovered. She waves back, conceding a small smile. She’s so happy to be surrounded by her weird not-completely-human family again, and all she wants to do is celebrate.

“So! What’s the plan for my awesome welcome home party?” she asks before starting to walk away from the entrance. She’s fine using the crutch they gave her, but Lucifer is in full mother-hen-mode these days and helps her to the couch regardless, then sits next to her.

“We’re having pizza!” Trixie hops over to the kitchen counter, where in fact a stack of pizza boxes Chloe didn’t notice before is waiting for them. Dan trails after her, peers inside one and starts looking around as if searching for something.

“Uhm, Chloe, where are all the knives?”

“Where do you think?” Maze walks around the couch and gives Lucifer a look.

“And is this induction cooktop new?!” Dan goes on.

Lucifer, who was previously trying to make himself smaller, lights up at that. “It’s the safest cooking option out there, Daniel! No gas, no fire! Top of the line, of course – had it installed for free to cash in on a favor. Smart, eh?”

“Wait a second, is this the reason why I haven’t been able to find a single pair of scissors at the precinct for like a _week_ now?”

Lucifer casts a side glance in Chloe’s direction, finding her smirking in amusement.

“You do know that place is full of guns, right?” she asks him. “That’s like trying to stop a dam from bursting by using duct tape.”

He shrugs. “Still one less thing to worry about.”

Suspicious, Trixie quickly disappears into her room, then comes back to accuse him, “And you stole all my pens and pencils, too!”

“I didn’t _steal_ them.” Lucifer crosses his legs primly. “I just locked them in a safe for when you want to use them, urchin. No reason for all those very sharp objects to just be lying around like that.”

“Whatever.” Maze rolls her eyes and stalks over to the counter. “Step aside, Espinoza, ‘cause apparently I'm gonna have to cut through these with my knives. Which is _totally one of the things they were meant for!_” she raises her voice for Lucifer to hear.

Chloe laughs, but when she turns to Lucifer again, she sees that he’s looking at her with a serious, almost worried expression on his face.

“So… you’re not mad?”

She smiles, shaking her head at him. At the end of the day, maybe it’s not right to ask him not to worry at all, and she must admit that she likes his protective side. He takes it to the next level, of course, just like everything else he does, but… they have time. Not forever, but enough.

“You should go help Maze with the pizzas though, ‘cause _she_ clearly is.”

Lucifer chuckles and does as instructed. When all the pizzas have been taken care of, the others settle around her with the cardboard boxes perched on their legs.

“Demon-sliced pizza!” Trixie decides to name it, then declares that it will be a new family tradition, just like Taco Tuesday. Eve high-fives her for the amazing idea, Maze pretends to protest but eventually agrees, and Dan does a terrible job at hiding how happy he is at the prospect of having one more reason to spend time at the apartment with them all.

“What are you thinking about?” Lucifer’s voice makes Chloe blink and realize she was just… staring, her slice forgotten in her hand. She turns toward him, wipes tomato sauce off the corner of his mouth with her thumb and smiles.

“That I'll be okay,” she tells him. “That we all will be.”

He seems to believe her. Chloe will make sure it stays this way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Protective Devil you guys, it's a drug I can't go without! ❤ I know there are many different opinions on how to "solve" Chloe's mortality and I am curious to see what the show will do with it. I hope you enjoyed this even if your idea might be different than mine! As always, thank you for reading 🥰


	18. How to... show him what family is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s hard to make up for your boyfriend’s lost childhood when he comes from the most dysfunctional family in the universe. (or: how many Deckerstar/Disney parallels can the author stuff into one chapter?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fulfilling prompts by legendarytobes, venividivictorious and DifferenceEngineGirl, with special thanks to NotOneLine for further inspiration. While I wait for S5 to inspire me even more, here, enjoy almost 10k of the fluffiest fluff ever!

“Hey Lucifer, have you ever had a sleepover?” Trixie asks from her chair at the dinner table, just as Lucifer is collecting their plates to go put them in the sink. When Chloe cooks, he washes the dishes and vice versa, and today that’s exactly the case.

The question seems to come from out of nowhere at first, but only before Chloe realizes Trixie finished telling them all about _her_ last sleepover ten minutes ago.

Lucifer places the pile of dishes under the tap and starts rolling up his sleeves, thinking all the while.

“Does drinking wine and eating mint chocolate chip ice cream wrapped in a pink snuggie with a con woman you later propose to count as a sl–aaand I'll stop talking now,” he cuts himself off at the glare Chloe shoots him from the table. No matter Lucifer’s good intentions at the time, the controversial, scantily dressed ghost of Candy Morningstar is better left in the past as far as she’s concerned.

Trixie frowns, her gaze shifting between them as she struggles to understand, only to quickly decide she doesn’t really care.

“Uhm, I'm not sure. I guess? But I meant with more people, like me and my friends.”

“I see. So you mean, staying up with someone to watch feel-good movies, paint each other’s nails and gush over silly little crushes? Pillow fights, gossip, that sort of thing? Can’t say that I have, urchin. Yes, demons _love_ gossiping, but pillows are highly inadequate weapons in their book. Horror and splatter would be their go-to genres if they had TVs, and painting nails, well… let’s just say, they’d rather do _other_ things to them. Not of the fun kind.”

Chloe swallows and eyes Trixie with concern: it wasn’t a _clear_ reference to torture, but Trixie is not dumb. Yet her daughter just shrugs it off, which admittedly shouldn’t be too surprising given the time she spends in the company of one of said demons, albeit retired from her hellish job. Chloe has made her peace with it, deciding it’s a good thing Trixie is learning how to defend herself; but there _is_ a part of her that wonders whether the supernatural is making her daughter grow up too fast.

“Oh, okay. That makes sense,” she simply acknowledges. “What about in Heaven then?”

Lucifer stiffens, his right hand halfway to the handle of the tap in front of him. His openness from a moment ago melts away in favor of a rigid, closed off posture, his jaw hardening as his shoulders tense.

“Why would we ever do such a thing in Heaven?” he says, his tone dismissive, almost offended. “From what I understand, sleepovers are for young, stupid, obnoxious children, and we were never that.”

“Lucifer,” Chloe reprimands him softly, noticing the way Trixie’s face immediately scrunched up at the words. She knows he’s coming from a place of hurt, caught off-guard by the innocent yet painful question, but the implication of what he just said…

“I'm not _stupid_!” Trixie snaps, slamming her hands flat on the table. “And I'm not obnoxious, either! _You_ are!”

“Trix–” Chloe tries to call her back, but she’s already standing up and angrily making her way to her room. She finished her dinner, completed her homework, ate her vegetables: overall, she has the right to leave if she so wishes, especially if someone hurt her feelings. Which, no matter how unintentional, is clearly what just happened.

The door to Trixie’s room slams shut behind her, the sound reverberating through the apartment. Now standing with his back against the edge of the sink, Lucifer looks like he wants to disappear, his hands gripping the countertop as he worries his lower lip between his teeth.

“I've just made a real cock-up, haven’t I?” he asks softly, but loud enough for Chloe to hear. She slips out of her chair and walks up to him, leaning her weight against the cabinets behind her to assume the same position next to him, their hips touching.

“Seems like you have,” she tells him, but there’s no anger in it. “Do you want to talk about it? About why the question upset you, I mean.”

She always treads carefully with him, about this sort of stuff. Heaven, his family, God. She’s been trying to wrap her head around the fact that he was never a child: his choice of words aside, that part of his statement is apparently true. But it’s hard. Does it still count as missing a childhood, even though he wasn’t… supposed to have one? Or _was_ he? The way he talks sometimes, about pranks and games and chases, suggests that in a way, he and his siblings used to be _younger_, at least mentally. Used to crave affection and recognition, only to mostly receive it from a Mother who, in the end, was powerless to fully stand up for Lucifer the way he would have wanted.

“I'd rather not,” Lucifer replies, his voice strained. Chloe knows when to let it go: he'll open up when he’s ready, and if that won’t come to be, she’ll just… read between the lines. She’s good at that: it’s how you solve a case when the answer is hidden under pictures, statements, reports, _there_ but slightly out of reach. “But I think I should go talk to her.”

“Oh.” Chloe doesn’t even try to hide her smile. No ‘stepDevil business’ for Lucifer, no thanks – but honestly, at this point he’s only kidding himself. “Well, good luck with that.”

He relaxes visibly at her playfulness, taking it in stride.

“Does she have knives in there?” he jokes, arching an eyebrow at her. “Should I wear a vest?”

Chloe snorts. “You refuse to wear one in the field, but you’re asking me if you should _to go talk to Trixie_?”

“Detective, she’s being trained by Maze. I don’t think you realize what kind of a threat your offspring will soon turn out to be.”

Reassuring.

“Just–knock first, and be nice.” She motions for him to go, shooing him with her hands. “Guess I'll give you a pass for tonight and do the dishes myself. Call my name if she attacks.”

“Right.” He _actually_ looks scared, nervously smoothing his palms over the front of his shirt as he straightens away from the sink. “Off I go then. Just in case anything happens, remember: funeral is to be held at the nudist colony in Malibu Canyon, theme is ‘Bare Your Grief’.”

“Yeah, I told you we're not doing that.”

He huffs, “But it’s my bloody last wish!”

“It can’t be your last wish if you’re not dying _right now_, Lucifer.”

“Fine, I suppose I'll have to put it in writing then.” _Great. Good job, Chloe._ “You humans and your love for tedious paperwork.”

Chloe can only hope he'll forget about this by the time he's done making up with Trixie, but she wouldn’t bet money on it. With a roll of her eyes, she watches him walk up to her daughter’s bedroom door and tentatively knock.

“Go! Away!” comes Trixie’s voice, not that Chloe expected differently. Lucifer turns toward her and mouths a whispered “What now?”, his arms raised at his sides. It’s basically like helping two _siblings_ navigate the aftermath of a fight, Chloe realizes.

“Tell her you’re sorry, that you didn’t mean it, something!”

Lucifer points a finger in her direction. “Yes, that. Very clever.” Which, uh, sure. Took superior strategic skills to come up with it. The man might have ruled over a kingdom, fought and won against demons and probably worse things still, but this might as well be rocket science to him.

“Beatrice, it’s me!” Lucifer calls once he turns back toward the door. “Come now, darling, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings! I think _most_ children are stupid and obnoxious, but certainly not you, dear! Or, uhm, not… any… more?”

When he silently searches for Chloe’s approval, she gives him a thumbs up, though her tense smile probably betrays her internal facepalm. _Nice ending there, you dum-dum._

And yet, a moment later she hears Trixie’s footsteps from inside her room as the girl walks closer to the door from the other side.

There’s a sniffle, and then, “Really?”

Was it ever this easy when _Chloe_ was the one having to atone for snapping at her daughter and upsetting her? The answer is probably no.

“Really.” Lucifer smiles proudly, winks at Chloe and turns back to the door. “Now, may I please come in?”

“Alright.”

Of course Trixie is not allowed to _lock_ her door, but the whole ritual is terribly endearing to witness, with Lucifer stepping back politely to allow her to stick her head out.

“Get in, but I'm still mad at you,” she grumbles, before opening the door further to let the Devil in.

Once the door is closed again, Chloe shakes her head to herself and turns to take care of the dishes. Between the sound of the water running, the clattering of the plates as she washes them, the distance separating her from the door and the actual door, it’s impossible for her to hear what is being said, but she’s fine with it. Allowing Trixie and Lucifer more and more moments alone has been a slow but rewarding process, one she enjoys more than she’ll ever say to him.

He’s not just “mom's boyfriend”, not anymore. They don’t have to label it since he doesn’t like it, but it’s quite simple, really: he’s family.

When he eventually reemerges from Trixie’s room, Lucifer has a dazed expression on his face, and walks toward the kitchen area as if on autopilot. Chloe dries her hands with a rag and meets him at the counter, where he sits on one of the stools without even looking at it.

“So? How did it go?”

He blinks up at her as if her words just woke him from a trance.

“I, uh… I had to agree to a sleepover. It was the only deal she would accept in exchange for her forgiveness. Not even a hundie could sway her.” He shakes his head. “I am starting to think I've taught her too well.”

And between his teachings and Maze’s, Chloe doesn’t know which ones are the most dangerous. Or the most useful. After all, the deal _might_ seem for Trixie’s benefit, but doesn’t it also sound like something Lucifer might need? To experience, with them, something he has never done in millennia of existence? Isn’t it obvious that Trixie herself knew that?

“Yeah, you definitely have,” Chloe agrees.

  
  
_ What to do: _

_1\. Give him the best sleepover ever_

The coffee table has been pushed out of the way to accomodate the mess of blankets now splayed on the floor between the sofas and the TV. Chairs and stools from the kitchen area have been moved to strategic places all around to hang bed sheets over them, their hem touching the ground behind the couches, like a cave facing the fireplace and screen. The half-open fort, complete with fairy lights hanging from its soft ceiling, is loud and crowded with people from Earth, Heaven, Hell and Eden, like a tiny lifeboat hosting passengers from all walks of life.

“Oh, yay! I love _The Little Mermaid_!” Eve claps at the sight of Trixie waving the chosen DVD case at them before walking to the player to put it on. She’s sprawled alongside one of the sofas with her feet resting in Maze’s lap, head propped up on a pile of pillows. “I babysat a girl in Mexico City for a while, and she was obsessed with it! She said I sing just like Ariel.”

“Babe, please stay still,” Maze chastises her, trying and failing to keep applying her black nail polish to Eve's toes while she moves.

“Oops, sorry,” Eve giggles before complying, until Maze is done with her task. Initially, Maze was opposed to this whole idea, claiming it was ‘beneath her’, but all it took was Eve saying she always wanted to do this (like Lucifer, Chloe imagines she was born as she looks now, too) and just like that, the demon was on board. Not that different from the influence Trixie has on Lucifer, basically, and on Maze herself.

“I bet you do!” Ella answers Eve's statement from the opposite corner of the fort, her tongue between her teeth as she slips bead after bead through a sparkly pink thread Trixie gave her. The bracelet with her grandma’s name completed, she’s making a matching one for herself, it seems. “When her song comes up, we should totally sing along!”

“I'm _definitely_ going to need a refill for my flask,” Lucifer deadpans, his long legs occupying most of the space in the center of the fort. If he crossed them, there would be none left for Chloe to be sitting next to him as she is, their shoulders and hips touching.

“Come on, you love music!” Chloe elbows his side lightly. “Besides, I’m sure you’ll identify a lot with Ariel yourself.”

“Unlikely.”

“Right,” Ella laughs while Trixie hits play and pads back under the fort, settling between Chloe’s parted legs with her back against her mother’s chest. “A creature believed to be fictional who collects stuff from Earth, rebels to a controlling father because she _wants to be where the people are_, falls in love with a human and eventually settles down on land for good. Nope, doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Hey, spoiler alert!” Maze throws her now free hands in the air, aggressively chewing around a mouthful of chips.

“Maze, you know the book came out a _long_ time ago, right?” Chloe tells her, though she realizes that might not mean anything for someone who hasn’t experienced human culture for long. “But to be fair, the book ending is very different. They had to change it into a happy one, since it’s a children’s movie.”

“Ah, bummer,” Maze sighs, her mouth curved into a pout.

The movie starts, and as expected, Lucifer _obviously_ takes Ariel's side, immediately deciding King Triton is ‘a bloody tosser’ like a certain Someone who stays unnamed. After her father’s tirade about the dangers of the surface, Ariel shows the audience her collection of wrongly-named trinkets rescued from shipwrecks and pours her heart into the timeless _Part of Your World_, to which Eve, Ella and Trixie enthusiastically sing along without even needing lyrics on screen (and yes, Eve _does_ sound like Ariel, as the real-life version of a Disney princess that she is).

Chloe, no matter how many times Trixie has forced her to watch the same animated movies over the years, never accomplished the feat instead, so she decides to do something different for a change: watch _Lucifer_ while he watches.

With one arm around her shoulders and the other busy bringing Cool Ranch Puffs to his lips from the open package at his side, he looks very taken by the scene, a small smile of quiet understanding and solidarity on his face (between one mouthful and the next). Chloe never made the connection – it wouldn’t have made a lot of sense before –, but she does now: the ocean looks dark inside the mermaid's grotto, and the water surrounding her feels like a palpable weight separating her from the light.

_Up where they walk, up where they run, up where they stay all day in the sun_, the song goes, and from the few times Lucifer has opened up about Hell, Chloe knows it has no sun. Leaning further into him, she wraps one arm around his waist and rests her head on his shoulder until he gets the hint, until she feels his cheek pressed against her hair and hears a soft chuckle escape his mouth. With her free hand, she cards her fingers through Trixie’s hair and reminds herself that her daughter’s childhood is not lost after all, not if they can still do this together. Turns out this is what _Chloe_ needed, too.

The parallels become more and more obvious after that, so much so that Lucifer himself is forced to admit it.

“Alright, I am starting to get what you two meant,” he tells Chloe and Ella when Ariel saves Prince Eric’s life and drags him to shore. “This is _very_ reminiscent of something, isn’t it, Detective?”

_I don’t wanna die._

_I won’t let you._

Truth is, she actually hadn’t considered this similarity until this very moment. They barely knew each other too, back then. It was the first time Lucifer ever called her _Chloe_: she’ll never forget it.

“Did you fall in love with me on the spot, too?” she asks Lucifer with a smirk, trying not to let emotions get the best of her. The movie has barely started, for goodness’ sake.

“No one does that, it’s just absurd,” he counters, then looks down at Trixie sitting in Chloe’s lap. “Offspring, I hope you don’t let these fairytales get to your head too much. No running away with any boy or girl you just met, you hear me?”

God, he sounds _just_ like Dan. It’s so funny Chloe almost laughs out loud: if and when Trixie actually starts dating, she will have _two_ overprotective men to reassure. Chloe doesn’t look forward to it at all.

“Don’t worry, Maze has already given me _the talk_,” Trixie says in a bored, matter-of-fact tone – wait, Maze has given her the what now? “Nothing serious until she gives me the clear. Background checks take time, you know.”

Background checks. On kids Trixie’s age. Sure, what the hell.

As the movie continues, Lucifer is fully on board with Ariel's rebellion, and calls her father every (British) name in the book for destroying her precious underwater collection. Later on though, his anger is directed elsewhere: “This is why deal-making gets a bad name,” he sulks while Ursula explains the terms to Ariel. “This is no deal, it’s a sham! Completely unfair, unbalanced conditions. No one in their right mind would sign that contract!”

“That’s why she preys on _desperate_ merpeople,” Ella explains gently. “She knows they have no other choice.”

“I hate her,” Lucifer grumbles in response.

“You know, I wouldn’t actually mind having a seashell that takes away your voice for a while,” Chloe jokes to cheer him up, though his reaction takes the shape of a scowl.

“You don’t mean that,” he pouts while the others laugh around them. Chloe decides not to contradict him.

Eventually, Ursula obtains Triton's trident and tries to come between the reunited lovers by growing in size, her eyes mad with rage and the king’s crown on her head.

“This part is scary,” Eve comments, burrowing further into the pillows supporting her.

“So cool,” Maze replies with a manic smile, which only widens when the sea witch gets literally impaled with the point of a ship. “_Nice._”

The movie ends with Triton realizing through Sebastian's words that ‘children got to be free to lead their own lives’ and granting Ariel human legs so she can be with Eric on land.

“Out of all the outlandish things we've just seen, this is by far the most preposterous,” Lucifer scoffs, always struggling to recognize there might be _good_ father figures in the world. And yet, Chloe wonders: is God’s silence His way of letting Lucifer have his freedom? Wouldn’t He send someone to drag Lucifer back to Hell if He so wished, as He has before? _Will_ He?

Such fears do grip her heart sometimes, but she does her best to silence them. Lucifer wouldn’t let that happen, not after he found a way to make Hell function without him safely. He gave _himself_ legs, and it’s not up to God to take them away.

Right on time, the pizza delivery guy rings the bell as the credits roll. Chloe and Lucifer awkwardly slip out of the fort to pay him, then go back to their spot and let everyone claim their designated cardboard box. Trixie asks to watch another movie while they eat, her choice landing on an all-time favorite: _Lilo & Stitch_.

“Now _this_ I have absolutely no idea what it’s about,” Lucifer muses while Trixie takes care of replacing the previous DVD with the new one. “Who are these two?”

Trixie presses play and crawls back under the sheet hanging over their heads, this time settling between Chloe and Ella to be able to eat her already sliced pizza.

“Lilo is a girl from Hawaii who is lonely because her parents died and her friends treat her badly, and Stitch is an alien she adopts as a pet after he crashes to Earth.”

“Kinda like what Trix has done with you,” Chloe adds, snickering.

“I beg your bloody pardon?! I'm not a pet, I'm the _Devil_.”

“A pet Devil, then,” Ella shrugs.

They eat their pizzas in silence for a while, enjoying the beginning of the movie. When one of Lilo's hula classmates calls her crazy and Lilo hits and bites her, Lucifer lets out a laugh and looks past Chloe to meet Trixie’s eyes.

“What was it that you did, urchin? Kicked her in the no-no-touch-touch square?”

“Yup!” Trixie confirms proudly, the two sharing a conspiratorial smile while Chloe’s head moves from side to side between them.

He remembers Trixie’s exact words, she realizes. Remembers what she told him the day Chloe dragged him to her daughter’s school while they were investigating Delilah's murder, years ago. She never thought of asking what he did to that bully to make her scream like that, though given what she now knows, she can imagine. She doubts he would flash his Devil face to a little girl, but a threat about Hell or a glimpse of his red eyes might have done the trick. For Trixie, whom he didn’t even know at the time; a child he could barely stand to share the same room with. Even then, Trixie had him in her corner.

Even then, when he was no angel, he was their guardian Devil.

Once accepted that Lilo is basically a two-dimensional version of Trixie (her handmade doll looks like Miss Alien too; the whole thing is uncanny), Lucifer starts talking to her as if she’s personally responsible for Lilo's words and choices. On screen, the girl kneels by her bedside and prays for an angel to be sent to her, _the nicest angel you have_; in real life, Lucifer’s expression softens as his eyes flick to Trixie once more.

“It doesn’t work like that, you know,” he whispers to her. “When _He_ sends us, well… let’s just say it’s not for nice reasons.”

Not in Lucifer’s experience, that’s for sure. Amenadiel sent to take him back to Hell time and time again; Uriel, a brother Chloe never met, on a mission to threaten her and blackmail Lucifer into doing what he wanted. How are _Disney movies_ managing to unearth so many memories, both good and bad? Chloe doesn’t even feel like teasing him for taking them so seriously after acting like they wouldn’t affect him at all. She can’t say she’s left indifferent, either.

Trixie pops the remaining piece of her current pizza slice into her mouth. Chewing, she replies, “That’s fine. I don’t need to ask Him for anyone, anyway. You’re already here.”

“Yeah,” Lucifer agrees, his voice a little choked. “Yeah, I am.”

As a second thought, he leans forward to turn to Ella, focusing on the cross dangling from around her neck.

“I hope all this Father talk is not upsetting you, Miss Lopez.”

“Mm?” Only now, Ella unglues her eyes from the screen. “Oh, no problem, buddy!” She waves him off with the hand not holding the pizza. “Big Guy knows he owes me a biiig explanation when the time comes!”

At the animal shelter, Lilo adopts Stitch thinking he’s a dog and brings him home, but once there, her sister Nani decides he’s too violent and unpredictable and that they should give him back for good. Of course, Lilo is not having it: _“Dad said Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten.”_

Out of the corner of her eye, Chloe sees Lucifer’s jaw tense ever-so-slightly.

“These movies are utter bollocks,” he mumbles, pouring his sudden irritation into his next bite. “It’s just a word, and that’s not what it means.”

They all share a glance, but Chloe is obviously the one silently tasked with getting through to him. Reaching down between them, she squeezes his hand on the blanket-covered floor, then leans close to his ear so only he can hear her.

“It is. Or it should.”

Lucifer’s head is tilted to the side when she pulls back, fairy lights reflected in his brown eyes. He smiles at her, not knowing what to say, then leans down and kisses her temple.

“Okay, so is making out _really_ not allowed in the common areas, or is it a rule that only applies to _us_?” Maze complains, her back now resting against Eve's chest where she’s lying between her legs, the black nail polish on her toes dried and glossy.

“A kiss on the forehead is not _making out_, Maze,” Chloe counters, “and when I said that, I had just caught you two on the couch in your _underwear_.”

Because yes, this is the house she is having her daughter grow up in. Satan comes and goes, knife holes adorn the walls, and a demon from Hell makes out with _the_ Eve from the Garden on every available surface she can find ever since the two got together. Chloe cleans the kitchen counter _before_ she starts to cook, these days.

Eve giggles at the reminder, a hand flying to her mouth. “That was bad, wasn’t it? Sorry again, Chloe.”

“And you didn’t call me?” Lucifer plays offended (though he might actually be). “Bloody hell, Detective!”

“Watch it,” she warns, and to her credit, Lucifer’s mouth immediately snaps shut.

Once Lilo has permission to keep Stitch, she decides she has to train him and comes up with a system to judge his ‘badness level’: a drawing of the creature almost filled to the top with red, the color acting as a scale to assess his behavior.

“I actually did that with you,” Trixie drops this piece of information out of the blue, like it’s not going to cause any outrage at all.

“You did _what_ now?”

“Oh, this is going to be _hilarious_,” Maze cackles, her face now stuffed with popcorn. She tore open the package the moment she was done with her pizza (she is always faster than most): Chloe is definitely starting to envy her ability to stay as fit as she is despite the ungodly amounts of garbage food she puts into her body.

“Wait, I'll go get the drawings!” Trixie decides. She pauses the movie, gets up and sprints away to circle the fort and go to her room.

When she’s back, she sits again and spreads a series of sheets of paper in front of them. They are all outlines of the people represented, with no lines inside, making it easy for the figures to be colored at varying degrees according to Trixie’s evaluation of their character. A few show a man with horns, wings and a tail, others a woman with curved blades in her hands, and the remaining drawings are simply of a bulkier, shorter man than Lucifer. Chloe doesn’t initially get who he’s supposed to be.

“Not so hilarious now, is it, Mazikeen?” Lucifer teases her. “Look, you have been assessed, too!”

“Give me those,” Maze snaps, leaning to the side and slightly out of Eve's hold to snatch her drawings from the floor. Clearly made at different moments in time, they are all mostly red from head to toe, while in others the red is lowered to her neck.

“Ha! So I have been winning this thing,” she congratulates herself. “I'm the most badass bitch in the house, after all.”

Chloe stops herself from saying the instinctive _“Language!”_ that threatens to spill out of her lips not to feel like the grandma of the family. Still, she points out, “I have the feeling the goal was for the badness level to get lower, Maze, not _higher_.”

“What? But that’s _lame_.”

“Nah, she’s fine,” Trixie intervenes. She digs out a specific sheet from under the others, one Chloe didn’t notice before, with a simple stick figure of a man and a series of lines along one side, each one with a word scribbled near it. “These are the different standards to apply, see? A demon's badness level is okay if it’s at the neck. Devil’s should not get higher than the chest, and a human's is fine if it stops at the waist.”

Chloe smiles, amused and impressed by Trixie’s cleverness. These were made a long time back, she imagines: through the lenses of a child’s innocence and trusting nature, the girl has always believed that Lucifer and Maze were who they said they were, no questions asked. Sadly, Chloe’s adult, police trained mind needed proof instead.

“These are great, Trix,” she compliments her. She doesn’t fail to notice that Lucifer’s drawings show the red getting lower and lower, from the top of his head all the way to his waist, and that Lucifer is looking at them with a quiet, contemplative sort of awe in his eyes. “But who is the third one? The human?”

“Oh, that’s dad.”

Chloe can’t help it: she bursts out laughing. “You have been evaluating _dad’s_ badness level?” Wow, good thing Trixie doesn’t even know _half_ the shit Dan has been doing over the years.

“M-m. It’s been going through highs and lows, but now it’s consistently getting lower,” Trixie informs her with an air of professionalism, like an accountant showing her a budget report. “Especially since he opened his bar and became friends with Lucifer again. Back when he was thinking about Charlotte a lot, he would get mad over small things and I didn’t like it.”

Chloe’s heart squeezes, as if clutched into a fist. “I know, baby. I'm glad he’s better now.” She looks down at Dan’s most recent drawing, the red pooled halfway up his legs and no further. “You should show these to him, I think seeing them would make him very happy.”

“Okay! I will next time I sleep at his place.”

“Hold on.” Lucifer raises one finger in the air. “Where is your mother in all this?”

Oh, right. She didn’t realize. Is it a good thing to be left out, in this case?

“Mom doesn’t need me to keep track, she is _always_ good!”

Well, clearly it is. Chloe wished it was this easy, that she was indeed _Mom_, this mythological creature that can do no wrong in Trixie’s mind – not yet at least. Soon, Trixie’s rose-tinted glasses will be lifted off her nose and Chloe, too, will be held accountable for her flaws. For now, though, she’s more than happy to enjoy the special treatment.

“Good answer, monkey,” she says smugly, reaching out to boop her daughter’s nose.

“But that’s hardly fair,” Lucifer protests instead.

Chloe turns to glare at him. “I gave _birth_ to her, Lucifer. Let me have this.”

His eyes grow wide as he obviously _pictures_ it, looking down at her lap and then back up at her face.

“Right. I suppose I can’t argue with that one, now, can I?”

“You _definitely_ can’t,” Maze jumps in. “I was in the room with Linda when Charlie was born. Lots and lots of blood and screaming, and it’s like… imagine an alien, hairless and slippery, bursting out of her–”

“Ew, ew, ew!” Ella holds up her hands to stop her. “Hey, _someone_ here hasn’t had any kids and would like to not be completely grossed out by the thought beforehand!”

“Your loss.” Maze shrugs and turns away.

Behind her, Eve lets out a nervous, high-pitched chuckle and tries to comfort Ella, “It’s–it’s not _that_ bad! Don’t mind her, she’s exaggerating! I'm sure if you ever have children, it will be lovely.”

Yes, lovely. First thought that comes to mind when you remember the pain of giving birth. Chloe can only imagine how it must have been for Eve, considering the lack of healthcare facilities and assistance at the time. How it must have been to give birth to–nope, _still_ freaking awkward.

“I can’t believe I'm saying this, but we should have invited Daniel or Amenadiel,” Lucifer sums up his takeaway from the conversation, which admittedly went _quite_ off topic. “I am starting to feel outnumbered by women, and not in a fun way.” (a big statement coming from him: being a bit of a peacock, he _loves_ being the only man in the room)

With nothing else to add and a movie to get back to, Trixie starts gathering the drawings to put them back where she keeps them, but Lucifer slips one of his out of her grip.

“Could I… keep this?” he asks tentatively, his face betraying how important the small gift would be to him.

Trixie shrugs, oblivious to the emotion plainly showing on Lucifer’s features. There are many drawings of him in _this_ house, stuck to the fridge with magnets, hanging from the living room wall, even framed in Trixie’s room; but this would be the first one he carries with him to the penthouse, presumably. The first time he lets such a reminder of his new life blend with the sleek, mature, immaculate atmosphere of his home, whose memorabilia speak more of a past long gone than the present they are all sharing.

Aside from that _terrifying_ mermaid painting in his bedroom, that is. Even now that Chloe knows why it’s there, sometimes she feels the urge to set it on fire or throw it off the balcony while he sleeps only to later pretend someone snuck in and stole it or something. Not that anyone in their right mind would do that.

“Yeah, no problem. I'll make new ones soon anyway.”

Lucifer tucks his prize inside his jacket pocket while Trixie puts the others away. Chloe snuggles into him in the meantime, melting into his body and the warmth of his skin where her forehead touches his neck.

“You don’t need a reminder that you’re good, you know?” she whispers. Trixie just came back and pressed play once more, so she’s sure no one else heard her. “You just… are. I hope you know that.”

The occasional cases of Devil wings sadly suggest the opposite, so maybe he does need it. Still, she wanted to make it clear.

“I…” Lucifer hesitates, his arm now squeezing around her waist, hand under her shirt to caress her bare side. “I wouldn’t mind the extra help,” is what he comes up with in the end.

And, well, they certainly don’t mind providing it. Chloe will always make sure he has all the extra help he needs, will always do what she can to make up for what Someone else has failed to give him. Love. Affection. Acceptance. A place to call home and do stupid, childish things in like watching animated movies under a fort made of sheets, tease and gross each other out with stories and jokes until the sun comes out.

Who's watching, after all? Who's judging? God Himself, maybe?

In a way, Chloe almost hopes that’s the case.

  
  
_2\. Take care of him (even when he doesn’t actually need you to)_

“Detective, something is _wrong_.”

Lucifer is lying on one of her couches like a mummy inside a sarcophagus, arms crossed into an X over his shirt-covered chest. Ella fell asleep soon after the second movie and left early in the morning because of it, Trixie was moved to her bed as soon as she dropped, and Maze and Eve retreated to the demon’s room at some point between face-painting and hair-braiding, so they are the only two people left in the common space of the loft.

“What’s wrong?” Chloe asks as she walks closer to him from the kitchen, where she was trying to fold the empty pizza boxes stacked on the counter to later dispose of them. Hair tied into a bun and bare feet padding on the hardwood, she reaches the sofa and looks down from behind the backrest.

“I think I might be dying.”

Before she can say anything, Lucifer sneezes, his whole body seizing up with it before relaxing. Only now, she notices that his eyes are half-lidded and glassy, and that his nose is red because of all the times he must have rubbed at it after sniffling. She must have been too busy cleaning up around the living room to even realize he woke up, let alone notice the symptoms of his _deadly_ condition.

“Lucifer, you have a cold,” she reassures him affectionately, rolling her eyes at his exaggerating nature. “Do you feel hot?”

“I am _always_ hot,” he jokes, but the smirk on his lips goes to waste when he suddenly coughs, too. “Can you come here and see? I can’t tell.”

Chloe walks around the couch, sits on the edge next to his chest and presses a hand to his forehead.

“You’re fine.” Of course he is. Must be a seasonal cold: Trixie just went through it, and he's spent the whole night with her near.

“But I don’t _feel_ fine,” he complains with a whine. “I don’t like this, Detective. My body is _betraying_ me.”

She understands why it might feel this way to him, but they've been through this before, when he caught the stomach flu.

“Just go to the penthouse then, I won’t get offended. I know it’s only because of me that you can get this stuff. It’s okay, really.”

A look of hurt settles on his face, making his eyes seem almost teary.

“But… but I don’t want to leave.” He tilts his head to the side where it’s lying on a pillow on top of the armrest. “You don’t want to keep me company in my final moments?”

“What are you even–”

“Ohana means family, Detective. Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten.”

Chloe snorts, though she can’t help the fond smile that immediately stretches her lips afterwards. It’s silly, but if he’s finally accepting that meaning as a given, it’s a clear win for her. Still, she shakes her head at the way he's trying to push her into a corner, knowing she won’t be able to refuse.

“I can’t believe you’re using that movie against me. You realize you are the extraterrestrial blue monster in this metaphor, right?”

He sneezes again, his expression almost _offended_ at the fact that he just did, but then he smiles in return.

“I'm absolutely fine with it if it means I get to be pampered by you, love.”

He is such a _man_ sometimes, in the most human sense of the word. But how can she say no to that face, those eyes? A short distance away from the house, he would heal, but today that doesn’t seem to be the point. If he never had a cold before, it means no one has ever taken care of him while he had one, either.

She sighs. She’s _so_ going to regret this.

“Let me get you a blanket then, I can see you shivering. I have cough syrup, and hot tea will do you good for the throat.”

“With honey in it?” He perks up like a hopeful little boy, but Chloe knows he won’t like the answer.

“Yeah. _Regular_ honey.”

“Oh.”

After retrieving a box of tissues for him to keep near and covering him with the promised blanket, she goes back to the kitchen and makes him the tea. Lucifer is sitting up when she comes back to give it to him, the blanket wrapped around his legs and all the way under his chin. His arms slip out from the sides to take the mug from her hands, using the edges of the blanket to shield his palms from the heat.

“Thank you.” His voice has acquired a more nasal quality, now that she stops to think about it. She should give him a spray, too, or have him breathe in some steam over a pot of boiled water.

She sits next to him and watches him sip his tea in silence for a while. Slowly, he starts leaning toward her, until his head is resting on her shoulder. Given their difference in size, she is usually the one snuggling into him, curling into a ball while his arm encircles her; but this time around, she enjoys their roles being reversed and lifts her arm to settle it along the backrest, her hand idly playing with his sleep-mussed hair.

Truth is, she loves taking care of him, mostly because she never gets to do it. _She_ is the human, the physically weaker one in the relationship; because even though Lucifer is vulnerable around her, once he starts healing, the process is fast. No lengthy, tedious recovery periods for him after gunshot wounds and surgeries; no medication aside from the drugs immediately needed to lessen his pain. He once vowed that he’ll be there to help her with sickness, admitting he'll need her guidance to do so, but on the other hand Chloe won’t ever need to do the same, not in any major way.

It almost sounds like she wishes he _could_ get sick, which is a terrible thought. It’s not that, exactly. But yes, a part of her is reveling in this, in the fact that he, too, is taking this opportunity to experience it with her by actively refusing to leave and get better.

One more way, among many, in which he makes himself human for her.

“This is nice,” Lucifer interrupts her train of thought between one sip of tea and the next. His hair tickles Chloe’s cheek, and his stubble slightly scratches at her neck and collarbone, but it’s nice, indeed.

“I'm glad.” She buries her fingers in the short hair at his nape, eliciting a pleased humming sound from his lips.

“Detective?”

“Yeah?”

“Since I may die soon, I just want you to know…”

“Lucifer, I told you, you’re not dying.”

“..that meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me…”

“Aw, that’s sweet of you to say, but–”

“..and that even though this is 100% your fault, I'm leaving you everything I own.”

“Please shut up and drink your tea, Lucifer.”

He does as told. For a bit.

“I really would, though.” He pulls away to look at her. “If anything happens to me, if for any reason I die and end up getting stuck in Hell… it’s all yours, Chloe. I arranged it the moment I got back.”

She knows it’s no silly nudist funeral joke this time. She knows it’s serious, and it makes her breathing pick up like that of a panicked little bird, causing all those buried fears to resurface.

“Don’t talk like that,” she begs of him. “You will never get stuck down there, you will come back, you _always_ come back–”

“I will always do my _best_ to come back to you, yes.” One of his hands leaves the mug to cradle her cheek, the warmth of his palm almost tingling. “I just wanted you to know, that’s all. You can find someone else to manage Lux for you, sell it and travel the world with Beatrice, manage it yourself to stay busy after retirement; whatever you wish to do with it, Detective. Whatever you desire.”

Chloe chuckles at the use of his favorite, trademark word, but there are tears in her eyes that she quickly pushes back in.

“But Lucifer, that place… it’s your _home_.”

“No, my darling. _You_ are.”

She laughs, choking a little as she does, and uses her fingers in his hair to push his head toward hers and keep him close. His quiet sniffles ruin the solemn vibe of the moment, but it doesn’t matter.

She knows now, the same way she knows Earth is round, that he is her home, too.

  
  
_3\. Uphold important traditions together_

Chloe is still busy getting ready in the bathroom downstairs when Lucifer appears in front of the open door and twirls on the spot, a wide, bright smile plastered to his face.

“I have to give it to you, Detective: this isn’t such a bad idea after all! I mean, _look_ at me. Oh, this is taking me back. The Devil could always rock a doublet, let me tell you.”

“I can see that.” She eyes him for a moment, then looks back at her reflection in the mirror, feigning nonchalance. Nope, she’s absolutely _not_ secretly swooning at how good he looks in that green, high-collared, sleeveless vest. And she definitely _never_ tried to picture him in different kinds of clothing from past historical periods, whenever he told her stories about his previous visits. No, that would be completely ridiculous.

Lucifer leans his weight against the door frame, crossing one leg over the other. His smug expression lets her know he saw right through her anyway, but she doesn’t have to confirm it. She tries not to focus on how slim his waist is, perfectly encircled by a thick brown leather belt that matches the high boots he’s wearing, or on how broad his chest and shoulders seem in comparison, emphasized by the snug fit of the doublet. Whether she’s succeeding or not, he lets her off the hook.

“Need any help with those, dear?” he asks instead, gesturing at the bag of fresh flowers sitting in the sink in front of her. A gift from Eve, of course, who refused to let her use fake ones given her current occupation at a plant store.

“Actually, yeah, I do,” Chloe realizes. Trixie helped her with the braid, but now she’s in her room getting ready, and Chloe is having a hard time sticking the flowers in her hair by herself.

“Your wish is my command, my lady,” Lucifer says cheekily, then walks up to her and settles behind her. Using the pins she gathered on the counter, he starts placing the flowers where the strands meet in the middle of the braid, then does the same on either side of her head, from around her ears to the nape of her neck.

“Do you think we let Trixie’s Disney obsession get to us?” she wonders aloud, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

Lucifer chuckles, then looks down to resume his task. “Perhaps. But hey, at least we look flawless while doing it.”

“That we do.”

Well, she also went the extra mile to make sure of it, commissioning their Halloween costumes to a professional tailor she’s still in contact with from her acting days. She wanted to go big for their first party in matching clothes, so sue her. And all in all, considering she doesn’t even need to wear a ridiculous wig for this, they could have come up with something more embarrassing for sure. A pink princess dress and fresh flowers in her hair? Not really her style, but not so bad, either.

A few flowers still wait to be put into place when Trixie makes her reappearance, having taken off her _My mom's boyfriend went to Hell and all I got was this lousy T-shirt_ shirt. Her chameleon costume is the most adorable thing Chloe has ever seen, but her immediate urge to gush and coo over her daughter is halted by the scowl on Trixie’s face, green arms crossed over an equally green chest.

“Mom, you’re still not ready?! How long is that going to take? I don’t wanna be late!”

“You can’t rush perfection, child: you know the Devil’s in the details,” Lucifer chides, a hairpin stuck between his teeth while he mentally debates on where to place the flower currently resting in his hand. “Why don’t you go see if Eve and Maze are ready, so you can bother them instead? Go on, let me work in peace, shoo!”

“They _are_ ready! Look, here they come!”

Chloe and Lucifer turn at the same time to see Maze and Eve step into their field of vision behind Trixie, surrounded by the pumpkins, spiders and ghosts decorating the main area for the day. They’re both dressed as Amazon warriors, wearing tight brown leather bustiers, high boots, metal bracelets almost to their elbows and matching circlets around their heads, ending into a V shape between their eyes. They look, quite simply, _stunning_.

“Wow,” Chloe sighs dreamily. Damn, now she _does_ feel ridiculous in her silly, girlish Rapunzel dress.

“I know, right?” Maze grins, before slipping a long, heavy-looking sword out of the scabbard at her hip.

Chloe’s eyes grow wide. “Maze, is that a _real_ sword?!”

“Well, duh.”

“There will be _children_ at the party.”

“So?”

Yeah, good question. Chloe’s not sure why she bothered.

“You both look bloody amazing, Mazikeen,” Lucifer jumps in. “I bet all eyes will be on you two.”

“Oh, I'm counting on that!” Maze’s smirk turns feral. “All I need is for someone to look at her in a way I don’t like to turn it into a bloodbath.”

“She doesn’t mean that!” Eve clarifies as she tends to do, smiling with all the charm she possesses. “She’s just… excited!”

_Let’s go with that, for my sanity_, Chloe thinks.

“Mom, doesn’t Eve look just like Wonder Woman?” Trixie beams – like most girls her age, she was obsessed with that movie for a while, and has a new set of notebooks and pencil case to show for it. To her credit, the resemblance is obvious, what with Eve's generous curves and long, wavy dark hair, but Trixie doesn’t even let her reply. “And Maze is Wonder Woman's badass girlfriend, and together they chase men away from their island ‘cause all men are dumb.”

“Hell yeah,” Maze agrees, lifting her free hand for Trixie to jump up and high-five her.

Lucifer pins yet another flower to Chloe’s hair and places his hands on his hips, affronted.

“What a ridiculous notion. Not _all_ men, I'll have you know.”

Maze arches her scarred eyebrow at him. “And you’re telling me while dressed like _that_.”

“What’s that supposed to m–”

“No, hey, don’t fight!” Trixie pleads them. The two immediately relax at her words. “Actually, he’s the perfect Flynn Rider, Maze. Look, he can even do the smolder!”

“The what?”

“The smolder! Show her, Lucifer, show her!”

He sighs, “You told me I wouldn’t have to do it on command after that first time, urchin.”

“Well, I was lying. _Pleaaaaase!_”

“Alright, alright!” And there it is, the most ridiculous expression Chloe has ever seen on Lucifer’s face: pursed lips, raised eyebrows, eyes reduced to slits in a _terrible_ attempt at seduction. It’s as funny now as it was the first time, and she laughs once more, followed by Eve and Maze.

“You’re right, Trix, he’s just _perfect_,” Maze agrees in a mocking tone. “Well, guess we’re going now. See you there, losers.”

“Maze, wait a second! Can you take a picture of us first?” Chloe asks her, taking her phone out of a useful pocket along the side of her skirt. “We’re basically done, aren’t we, Lucifer?”

“One moment.” He guides her head back toward the mirror, fusses with her hair for a bit longer to look for empty spots and nods. “Yes, _now_ we are. But do we really have to? What is this, prom night?”

“We look cute and I want a picture, end of story. Now get out of the bathroom and just… be pretty.”

They all walk into the living room, where Chloe hands her phone to Maze. With a bored expression, the demon opens the camera app and gestures for them to get closer to each other in front of her, while Eve gives Trixie an encouraging thumbs up about the costume.

“Since we’re doing this, we might as well do it right.” Lucifer looks down at, well, Pascal the chameleon. “Doesn’t the wretched thing always perch on Rapunzel's shoulder? Come up here, you rascal.” And with that, he picks Trixie up from under her armpits and helps her sit on Chloe’s shoulders, the girl’s hands crossed on top of Chloe’s head to support her chin.

“You guys look adorable!” Eve compliments them while Lucifer wraps his arm around Chloe’s waist and pulls both her and Trixie closer. Their eyes meet before they look back toward the phone, two equally happy smiles blossoming on their faces despite Lucifer’s previous protests. Thinking to herself, Chloe realizes that it’s true: he _is_ a bit of a Flynn Rider himself, all smug words and dialled up charm, with a quieter, more _boring_ Eugene Fitzherbert hiding just underneath the surface; the boy behind the thief, the man behind the Devil.

He’s both things – he’s so many _more_ things. And she, too, has been living in a tower up until the day she met him, surrounded by convictions that turned out to be awfully wrong. An ordinary life, with things to do day in and day out, but blinded to so many truths she now knows, so many adventures. The world outside the tower is scary, but finally, Chloe is done being afraid. She leapt, she landed, she survived; and at last, she’s seen the light.

Yes, Trixie’s Disney obsession has _definitely_ left its mark.

“Here you go,” Maze says, giving Chloe her phone back after a couple of shots. “See you at _The Dan of Laughs_, guys.”

Chloe helps Trixie off her shoulders, waves them goodbye and watches them leave the apartment. After the tame, kid-friendly party taking place at Dan's bar, she will leave Trixie with her dad for the night and meet Eve and Maze again at Lux for a _different_ kind of party, then retreat to the penthouse for some much needed alone time with Lucifer. Getting him out of that vest will be a treat, and she already imagines fresh flowers falling and scattering on the polished floor as they make their way in, stumbling and tipsy. That, too, can become part of their Halloween tradition: she definitely won’t mind keeping it alive.

A little someone, though, seems to have other ideas. “Why can’t I come with you guys to the other party, too?” Trixie asks when Chloe instructs her to go get her overnight backpack, so they can finally leave as well.

“It will end late, baby, and there will be strippers.” _And mama wants to get laid, sweetheart._

“Exotic dancers, Detective, please. We've been over this,” Lucifer corrects her, picking up the bag containing their ordinary clothes from the floor. “If anyone gets naked in my club, it’s purely because they want to, not because I pay them to.”

“My bad.” It does seem like an important difference to him, all jokes aside. “_Barely dressed_ exotic dancers, better?”

“That’s more like it.”

Pascal-Trixie gives her a skeptical look, her pink backpack now resting on top of her costume, then turns to Lucifer.

“How is Claire doing, by the way? Did she make up with her brother? He should totally apologize to her, that wasn’t very nice.”

“Right?” Lucifer replies casually without even looking at her, his eyes on his phone after he took it out of the bag to check his messages. “What a douche, I told her not to call him unless he contacts her first.”

Chloe raises one arm in the air, like a student asking permission to speak. “Uhm, hello? Do you mind filling me in? Who's Claire?!”

“One of Lucifer’s dancers!” Trixie grins, clearly trying to prove a point to her: that she _knows_ these people. “I'm in their group chat.”

“You’re in their–” Chloe pinches the bridge of her nose. Of course Trixie is in it. She doesn’t even want to know exactly how many times over the years Trixie has snuck out to go to Lux and apparently _bond_ with Lucifer’s employees like some sort of nightclub mascot. “Okay, that’s a discussion for another time. Come on, let’s get going. And no, you _still_ can’t come to Lux with us after.”

“_Pretbederwer_.”

“Ah-ah! That’s not going to work on me anymore, young lady! I know it means _spoilsport_!”

Lucifer looks up from his phone to take in Trixie’s surprise, her mouth hanging open. “Yes, apologies, offspring, but your mother expressed the desire to be able to understand you when you try to keep her in the dark. Offered me a deal I could not refuse.”

Recreating his favorite Hot Tub High School scene in _his_ hot tub, but Trixie doesn’t need to know that.

“_Verraaier_,” the girl scoffs, once again in Lilim. _Traitor_.

Before anything else can be said, Lucifer bursts out laughing, gesturing wildly at his phone.

“Look at this poor sod!” he snickers. “Ah, the good doctor has him _so_ whipped.”

Curious, Chloe steps closer and peers down at the screen, where she can see the chat between Lucifer and Amenadiel. Lucifer’s brother has just sent a group picture to show him what they’re all dressed up as: Linda (sorry, _Glinda_) as the Good Witch of the South, with a huge pink dress, crown and wand; Charlie as the Cowardly Lion, absolutely adorable in a tiny lion costume; Ella (who apparently found a way to tag along) as Dorothy, with twin braids, a baby blue dress and sparkly red shoes; and finally, Amenadiel as the Tin Man, his face completely covered in silver paint and a big funnel resting on his bald head.

“Okay, that _is_ funny,” Chloe snorts, “but come on, be nice. That must have taken him a lot of effort.”

Besides, can Lucifer really accuse anyone of being whipped when a little girl has him completely wrapped around her finger? When Chloe herself (though she has to work harder for it) can get him to do almost anything?

But Lucifer is already typing (words, incredibly, though she suspects it’s because Amenadiel sucks even more than her at deciphering emojis), his tongue stuck between his teeth in concentration.

“You… look… abso… lutely… ridic–” Feeling watched, he looks up and realizes Chloe has her eyebrows raised pointedly. Sighing, he deletes the last few letters. “_Adorable_. There, happy?”

“Very.” She raises herself up on tiptoe and kisses his cheek, immediately erasing the scowl from his features. “Alright, time to go! One last thing, and I'm ready.”

She walks behind the kitchen counter, slides open the big drawer at the bottom, and after careful consideration, takes out one of her best, shiniest cooking pans.

“Costume wouldn’t be complete without this!” she exclaims to Trixie’s utter delight, before twirling the utensil in her grip by the handle.

“You do remember that hurts when I'm near you, right?” Lucifer inquires, Chloe and Trixie meeting him at the door as he speaks.

“Oh, I remember _very_ well.”


	19. How to... keep up with self-actualization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s hard to make sense of the changes your angelic boyfriend goes through when his body becomes a manifestation of his inner feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by S5’s additions to the self-actualization lore (doesn’t contain plot spoilers for it), and partly fulfilling a prompt by venividivictorious.

From behind the backrest of Linda’s couch, Chloe, Lucifer, Linda and Amenadiel stare down at Charlie playing on the carpet just beyond it. Small plastic animals are scattered all around him: lions, elephants, zebras, snakes, tigers, giraffes and such, as the toddler pretends to make them interact with or chase each other on the floor in a very… very, _very_ realistic way.  
  
“How does he…” Chloe knows her mouth is hanging open, but she can’t help it, no matter how many _other_ strange things she has already seen. “How does he do that?!”  
  
Another roar erupts from Charlie’s mouth, the lion in his right hand going after the gazelle he holds in the other. But not a fake, silly, play-pretend roar: a _real_, genuine lion roar, powerful and scary especially considering the tiny body it’s coming from. They all startle at the sound, Lucifer’s flask almost dropping from his grasp before he takes a reinvigorating sip.  
  
“As unbelievable as it sounds, now I am even _more_ repulsed by the idea of spawning,” he grimaces, then puts the flask away inside his jacket. “Can they all do that?!”  
  
“What, perfectly replicate animal sounds as if they just _swallowed_ one?” Linda arches an eyebrow. “Yeah, sure. Toootally included in the human baby package.”  
  
Charlie picks up an elephant next, and as if on cue, proceeds to imitate its trumpeting while waving it in the air. Trying to make sense of it, Chloe realizes it’s certainly a skill humans can _learn_, but mastering it at his age? Impossible. There is only one explanation for this.  
  
“Do you think this is his… you know, angel power?” she asks the brothers standing on either side of her in the living room. “I know he is half-human, and you told me he can get injured, but he can also manifest wings, after all. Maybe it just took some time to develop it, and now he’s like you guys.”  
  
“You mean, the same way I can draw out desires and Amenadiel can slow down time, Charlie can, what? Talk to animals?” Lucifer seems to start the sentence in a mocking tone, but when it ends, he actually looks pretty convinced. “Ah. It isn’t that outlandish, all things considered. Would have come in handy to that poor sod Noah, that’s for sure.”  
  
“I don’t think that is what’s happening here,” Amenadiel objects instead. “Or, well, it _could_ be, but… he’s not pretending to _talk_ to them. He’s pretending to _be_ them. Brother, don’t you get it?”  
  
Lucifer frowns. “Should I?!”  
  
“I mean, it seems obvious to me! Charlie, he’s… he _wants_ to be those animals, so he’s literally _becoming_ them. Sort of. Could have been much worse, if he’d gone even _more_ literal.”  
  
Chloe tilts her head to the side. What is he even talking about?  
  
“I'm sorry, but you need to help me out here, ‘cause I'm kinda lost.”  
  
Lucifer turns to her, pensive. “He’s talking about self-actualization,” he explains to her. “Same reason we assume I'm physically vulnerable around you, because I _feel_ that way. He thinks Charlie’s body is manifesting his emotions, as all angelic bodies do.”  
  
“Oooh,” Chloe and Linda say in unison, then Linda adds, “Oh, wooow!”  
  
“And this has never happened before?” Chloe asks her.  
  
“Not that I know of,” the therapist replies, before her eyes move back to her son, who is now hissing like a sn– “Is that a _forked tongue?!_”  
  
“No way.” Chloe squints and steps closer to the couch. “Okay, _way_.”  
  
“This is bad.” Linda starts pacing, their heads turning left and right to follow her. “This is very, very bad!”  
  
“Come now, Doctor, you needn’t worry!” Lucifer tries to soothe her, but to be honest, Chloe herself would be freaking the hell out right now. Scratch that: she is. “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen, eh?”  
  
“Oh, I don’t know!” Linda stops to throw her hands in the air. “Lucifer, you didn’t even know this was a _thing_ before Amenadiel figured it out and we explored it in therapy! You guys have literally no idea how this works! What are the limits? What are the rules? Do I have any guarantee that my son won’t turn himself into a dragon and burn my house down? I don’t! Ha! I mean, of course I should have known this. Did I really think bubble-wrapping the ceiling would be enough? _Why does this keep happening to me???_”  
  
“Oookay, let’s take a deep breath here, alright?” Chloe reaches her (justifiably) upset friend and places a hand on her shoulder. “I'm… sure it will be fine, you know? He’s just playing around, and Amenadiel here has everything under control! Right, Amenadiel?”  
  
“Right!” Lucifer’s brother replies too quickly. “Yes, of course! _Everything_ is under control, mh-mh. I got this. I do. There is absolutely _nothing_ to worry about.”  
  
On the carpet, Charlie spreads what are suddenly _dragonfly wings_ and takes to the air, landing on the table behind them with a squeal.  
  
“Well, shit,” Lucifer mutters under his breath to caption the scene.

  
  
_What to do:_  
  
_1\. Be on the lookout for a curve ball_  
  
Linda and Amenadiel decide to watch Charlie even more closely than usual, to learn more about the lengths his newly acquired ability can take him to. The good news is the toddler is already being homeschooled (by Amenadiel, Heaven help them) because of his wings, and at this point, Chloe imagines there’s a good chance it will stay this way. After all, it’s not like Amenadiel has anything else to do, and he loves being a stay-at-home dad.  
  
Problem is, while Charlie does as he’s told when asked to put his wings away, this seems to be a very subconscious thing. If eons-old beings can barely keep it in check or understand it, how is a _baby_ supposed to manage it when he completely lacks self-reflection and emotional depth? Even if Chloe _wanted_ to have another child, the prospect of having to deal with this would be enough to change her mind for good.  
  
That _was_ a forked tongue. She shivers at the thought.  
  
Anyway, as the days go by, she doesn’t receive any more alarmed calls from Linda, so she figures the two are handling the development fairly well on their own.  
  
So naïve of her to think it’s the end of it.  
  
She and Lucifer are in the interrogation room together, after yet another inconclusive suspect interview of a case that has been dragging for quite some time, frustratingly so. Too many people with motive and opportunity, too many leads to follow, but instead of getting smaller, the net keeps expanding. All this has led them where they are now: arguing over how to proceed. More often than not, they are on the same page, but this happens too. It would with any partner, really.  
  
“I'm telling you, Detective, we need to go after the ex wife! She told me she desired her yoga instructor after all!”  
  
“But the killer profile Ella gave us doesn’t fit with her build and physical strength, according to me. I think we should focus on the shady accountant next.”  
  
“Well, maybe she got herself a killer for hire! The accountant only desired for the victim to have a… less prominent body hodor, remember? That doesn’t seem like a good reason to strangle someone, now, does it? Though to be fair, it’s most certainly a crime worth punishing.”  
  
“Oh, come on, as if it never happened before! Sometimes people tell you superficial desires, inconsequential things, and manage to hide deeper ones. We can’t be sure.”  
  
“Yes, we can! I _know_ desire, inside and out! Just–Detective, just trust me on this! And if I'm wrong, we can investigate your angle instead. Dearie me, why are you so bloody stubborn sometimes? Gosh, it’s like trying to talk sense into a goldfish!”  
  
Did he just–was that _comparing_ her to a goldfish?  
  
“Alright, fine!” Chloe slams her hands flat on the metal table and stands up. “You win, let’s do it your way. Now can you _please_ cool off, Lucifer? There’s no need to get agitated.”  
  
“I'm not agitated!” he counters, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away. “But yes, sure, I will _cool off_.”  
  
“Thank you.” Chloe relaxes, reaches out and touches his shoulder. “I'm gonna take a break and get coffee, will you join me?”  
  
Lucifer _pretends_ to consider it, pursing his lips in thought. Then, “Sure,” he says. “I'll meet you there in a minute.”  
  
“Awesome.” Chloe kisses him on the cheek (workplace rules!) and leaves for the break room.  
  
When Lucifer does join her, it’s been a little longer than a minute, but this kind of small, unintentional lie doesn’t really count as one. Besides, something else jumps to the forefront of Chloe’s mind as soon as he comes into view, stopping next to her in front of the coffee machine.  
  
“Uhm, Lucifer? Why are you shivering?”  
  
He is, teeth chattering as if they’re stuck inside an icebox, arms crossed so his hands can rub up and down his forearms. It’s actually pretty hot today, and as usual, he’s dressed too heavily to begin with.  
  
“T-that… i-is… a v-very… g-good question, D-Detective.”  
  
Frowning, Chloe steps closer to him, leaves her mug on the counter and puts her hand on his cheek.  
  
“What the–Lucifer, you’re _freezing_! How is this–” And then, it hits her. “Oh my God. Oh my _God_.”  
  
“M-must y-you?”  
  
“Sorry, my bad.” She pulls her hand away and covers her mouth for a moment, stunned. “You realize what’s going on here, right?” But Lucifer shakes his head. “I told you to cool off, and you are! Though _clearly_ not in the way that I meant!”  
  
“…oh.”  
  
Giggling, Chloe joins him in his efforts to warm up, rubbing his clothed arms in quick strokes. As long as they don’t make out, people at the precinct barely pay them any mind, already used to their casual, familiar touches and displays of affection.  
  
She can’t believe Lucifer’s body temperature literally dropped at her words, but then again, the same could be said of his vulnerability around her, which absurdly depends on a specific distance, even. It makes her feel a bit guilty, too, because who knows what his subconscious will pick up on next, or in what way it will respond.  
  
Turns out that even without an angel baby to take care of, she still has her own celestial mystery to figure out. After all, Lucifer has _always_ been her very own celestial mystery; it’s just that at the start, she didn’t believe in the _celestial_ part of the equation. But she sure as hell does now.  
  
“Can’t you just… get warm again?” she asks him, tugging at the lapels of his suit to try and close it more tightly around his chest. “I mean, I'm sure you _want_ to, so.”  
  
“This d-doesn't have a s-switch, D-Detective. I d-don't know _how_.”  
  
It can’t be that hard, though. Not with something so simple. This is no complicated, deeply rooted self-loathing, and even _that_ is something she can help with effectively at this point.  
  
If it’s a matter of subconscious, then…  
  
“Okay, come here.” She wraps her arms around him and tucks her chin in the crook of his neck, smoothing her palms over his trembling back to start drawing slow, soothing circles. “Close your eyes. Imagine a tropical island, a beach, warm sand under your feet. You and me just… lying there, with the sun high in the sky.”  
  
“Mm, I'm s-starting to l-like this game v-very much, l-love,” Lucifer stutters, turning his face toward her to kiss a sensitive spot under her ear. A pleasant warmth spreads through her, her head instinctively tilting away to leave him space so he can–  
  
“No, no, no, hey! It’s not _that_ kind of fantasy!” she yelps, playfully slapping his shoulder. “Come on, focus!”  
  
He grins, the smugness slightly tainted by the hilarious chattering of his teeth. “T-thought you w-wanted me to f-feel hot, d-darling.”  
  
“Not in _that_ sense!” Shaking her head, Chloe embraces him once more and keeps going. “So, tropical island, beach, sand, us… nothing? How about a sauna? An oven? I don’t know, the inside of the Sun itself?!”  
  
His breath hitches all of a sudden, and the skin of his neck and cheek begins to warm up. _Oh._ At the realization of _why_ it’s starting to work, Chloe hugs him tighter, her lips almost brushing his ear.  
  
“Think of the stars. _Your_ stars. How it felt to make them, to create them out of nothing.” She doesn’t know, can’t _possibly_ even begin to imagine, yet she finds herself closing her eyes too, pretending to be there with him at the dawn of Creation. “Do you remember it? What was it like?”  
  
“Warm.” He says it with such longing, his nose buried in her hair, his hands clutching her shirt, that Chloe doesn’t even care if others happen to eavesdrop and hear what must sound like absolute nonsense to them. “Warm and so, so very beautiful.”  
  
He feels so much older than her in this moment, and at the same time not. The millennia separating them always seem less of a heavy burden when they’re in each other’s arms, sharing it.  
  
Chloe thinks of what used to be a bullet hanging from her neck, now floating somewhere in space at the very center of a star she still can’t see. Remembers driving with him to the desert, watching him fly up to put it there, and laughing along with him when he realized he had nothing to show for it once he returned.  
  
In her arms, the Lightbringer slowly warms up at her gentle coaxing, his shivers subsiding until his body goes back to its normal temperature. In retrospect, though, Chloe wonders: is she risking him growing _hotter_ now, as hot as an _actual_ star? Oh, boy. Now _that_ would be a problem.  
  
“Please don’t explode on me?” she whispers, and he snorts, soft laughter wracking his frame instead of tremors. “What? Like that’s totally outside the realm of possibility here?”  
  
“Oh, I bet it isn’t.” Lucifer pulls back, still laughing, and reaches out to stroke her cheek with his no-longer-freezing hand. “But no, I don’t particularly feel like blowing up _at the moment._”  
  
“Gee, what a relief.”  
  
When he kisses her on the lips though, Chloe lets him, PDA rules be damned.

  
  
_2\. Don’t let it overwhelm you_  
  
“So, why do you think your body acted out like that all of a sudden, at the precinct? It never happened before, not with this kind of… small things.”  
  
Lucifer tilts his head up, his cheek previously resting on his joined hands on top of her stomach, and plants a kiss between her breasts.  
  
“My guess is, it’s Charlie’s fault. I have a feeling my mind was somehow… reminded of what it can do, or shown, more like. In conclusion, if one of these days I wake up with horns and a tail, blame it on the Amena-spawn.”  
  
_Horns and a tail, huh? Interesting._  
  
“I see.” Chloe trails a lazy finger up and down his arm, her other hand playing with his hair. Lucifer is sprawled between her legs, naked as she is, moonlight casting shadows over the golden sheets of the penthouse bed while they lie together in the afterglow. “Well, I'm sure we’ll be able to handle it. Fingers crossed we can say the same about your brother and Linda. She told me they are making sure Charlie doesn’t hear or watch anything weird that could… inspire him, so they basically had to get rid of anything that could make him think of fish, most of all. ‘Cause I mean, what then?”  
  
“I don’t know, buy an aquarium tank and keep him there for the time being? Darling, we _just_ had sex,” Lucifer complains. “Must we really discuss my half-angelic nephew when we could be doing way more entertaining things with our time? Namely, have _more_ sex?”  
  
“You’re right, I'm sorry,” Chloe chuckles, then pulls him up so she can kiss him.  
  
She feels his smile against her lips as their legs meet in a tangle, and that humming sound he makes when he’s at his most pleased and relaxed. Her fingers tighten in his hair at the first brush of his tongue against hers, eliciting a low groan out of him: the sting of her nails, she knows. The novelty of it, even after all this time together, after millennia spent free of – at least – the physical pain that is inherent to a human, mortal life. With a few exceptions, of course.  
  
The scar under his chin comes into view for a moment when he pulls back, before he starts kissing his way down her neck once more. His twin's angelic sword put it there, and for that reason, the line will never fade, unlike the signs man-made, ordinary weapons leave on the alabaster of his skin before he heals. It’s a tiny dent, one that stays hidden by his stubble most of the time, but oh, Chloe knows the blow cut deep. And over his left forearm, this time as a result of a _demon_ blade, rests a graze that would have been there regardless of her presence, from when Cain fought him that wretched day.  
  
Lucifer’s lips wander, as they frequently do, to the scar Jimmy Barnes gifted her with when he shot her in his recording studio. A barely-there puckered circle below her collarbone, but no matter: he loves lavishing it with attention in an apology of sorts, which breaks her heart every time. Given all the ways they’ve hurt each other before coming together, she feels this shouldn’t really count as one.  
  
The same goes for the _other_ place Lucifer always remembers to acknowledge: a way fresher bullet wound, from when she was recently shot in the leg during a chase. Chloe pushes her chest off the mattress to distract him from his exploration, but he indulges her only briefly, then continues his journey of kisses and bites down her stomach, over her hipbone, and along the inside of her thigh.  
  
“You really enjoy this, don’t you?” she teases him. Lucifer hums in response, lips skimming over her raised knee to finally press over the scar on the other side. “How is it fair, though? I can’t do the same with you, there’s nothing to kiss!”  
  
Well, there is _plenty_ to kiss, but she knows he knows it’s just a joke.  
  
“Darling, if my body did show scars, it would take you hours to map them all. It’s been _quite_ an eventful couple of years spent in your _very_ dangerous presence,” Lucifer grins. His hands splay over her inner thighs to gently pry her legs open: Chloe definitely knows where he's about to go next. Then a thought seems to hit him, and he adds, “Mm, you know what? I actually wouldn’t mind so much. Could be fun, watching you do that.”  
  
She wants to tell him she doesn’t need a map to explore the planes and valleys that make him, no X indicating where to dig to find a hidden treasure chest. She wants to say she already knows all the things he’s done for her, without any proof required. But Lucifer’s mouth is _there_ now, there where he knows how to make her melt and sigh, and all Chloe can do is card her fingers through hair as black as night and hold on to him as he loves her without saying the words.  
  
It’s late when they fall asleep, sated and clinging to each other, but even when Chloe is free from work, she always wakes up early. The sunlit bedroom of the penthouse greets her when she opens her eyes, with its ancient walls and modern curtains and furniture, the sheets tangled low around both her legs and Lucifer’s. He’s still sleeping soundly, of course, so she turns to watch the steady rise and fall of his toned, freckled chest.  
  
His… doubly… scarred… chest.  
  
With a gasp, Chloe sits up and turns on her side to partly hover above him. What caught her eye are two healed entry points, one below each shoulder. It takes her a moment, but then she remembers: on his right side, the pool cue of the bar fight; on his left, the knife he saved her from at Lux.  
  
“How…” she whispers to herself. How is it possible that they’re only showing now?  
  
_I can’t do the same with you, there’s nothing to kiss!_  
  
_If my body did show scars, it would take you hours to map them all. I actually wouldn’t mind so much._  
  
“Oh, Lucifer.”  
  
It just happened again, how did she not think about it when she told him that? She was just kidding, not _actually_ complaining, and yet Lucifer’s body took the hint and turned what seemed to be her desire into a physical, palpable reality. With a hand over her mouth, Chloe feels a haunting sense of guilt dragging her down, initially forcing herself to stop her gaze from wandering further.  
  
But then, she realizes she is looking at this wrong. Lucifer’s body is fulfilling what he thought was her wish… but it was _his_, too. To be cherished, to be cared for, to have all his scars and wounds – his _weaknesses_ – touched and kissed.  
  
She shouldn’t look away: she should do the exact opposite. These scars are hers; she put them where they are. And she has the feeling that the only way to will them away is to do precisely what Lucifer said he would enjoy. There is a reason they appeared. It’s a chance she might not have again.  
  
Chloe moves on top of him on all fours, her hands bracketing his head on the pillow. Lucifer smacks his lips in his sleep and wrinkles his nose, probably tickled by her loose hair brushing his face before she starts making her way down. Her first press of lips lands on the scar left by the pool cue: not the most pleasant of memories, the sound of his affectionate, customary “Hello, Detective!” tainted by anger, resentment, irritation. He didn’t want her there at the time, and for good reason. He was having _fun_ before she showed up.  
  
As her mouth trails horizontally across his chest toward the other mark she glimpsed, Lucifer’s hand comes up to tangle in her hair, the first sign that he’s waking up under her attentions. But before Chloe can kiss the knife wound she saw – _It’s not me I was worried about, Detective_ –, she realizes she missed a very faint, vertical line between his pecs, barely visible from where she was before.  
  
_And I would do it again. And again. Don’t you know that, Detective?_  
  
Oh, she needs him awake for this. She needs him to see.  
  
Her kiss in the center of his chest is longer and open-mouthed, her thumbs circling his nipples a guarantee he will perk up. His body arches into hers, making her smile victoriously, and finally, Lucifer blinks his eyes open, his still foggy, unfocused gaze landing on her and what she’s doing.  
  
“Good morning, Detective,” he whispers, voice hoarse from sleep. A lazy grin breaks across his face, locks of hair hanging over his forehead: he’s rarely more beautiful than in the mornings after they make love. “What are you–oh, dear.”  
  
Chloe watches as he lifts his right hand away from her head, noticing what’s marring his palm before anything else.  
  
“Well, I'll be damned.”  
  
“They all appeared while you were sleeping,” Chloe explains to him, taking in his look of absolute awe. In her human mind, she wonders what it must be like, to not be in control of such jarring, evident changes. If she was in his shoes, she would find them scary, but she’s here to show him they don’t have to be. “Remember what you told me last night? I think it’s because of that.”  
  
“Yes, I think you might be right.”  
  
He turns his hand from palm to back: the scars are two, because a bullet went straight through it during their first case together after she came back from Rome. Afterwards, when she squeezed his injured hand over the keys of his piano, there were so many lies poisoning her words that just the memory makes her sick to her stomach.  
  
And so, now she squeezes it once more, and brings it to her lips to kiss it on both sides. An apology trembles on the tip of her tongue, but she decides not to voice it. For all his pettiness sometimes, and his obsessing over small, trivial slights, Lucifer can be forgiving to a fault: they’re past it already, and she doesn’t want to make him sad. The opposite, actually.  
  
“Chloe?” he simply says, head tilting to the side in wonder.  
  
“Shhh,” Chloe whispers, then reaches down to lift his other hand from the sheets. “Just let me take care of you.”  
  
The back of his left hand is clean, while from his palm, two parallel lines stare back at her. One is more recent (that hilarious time he broke her shower with his wings and cut himself with glass), while the other is way, way fainter: he told her what it is that same day, a mark left from when he came to her mother’s house and tested if he bled in her presence only. Chloe kisses along both of them, curling her fingers around the back of Lucifer’s hand and watching as his eyes cloud with a quiet, subdued sort of lust.  
  
As she pulls back, she notices two _other_ cuts, but on the inside of his wrist. The placement of them troubles her immediately: human experience automatically tells her what they might mean. With a frown, she stares up at Lucifer, a questioning look on her face in the hopes he'll prove her assumption wrong.  
  
“Professor Carlisle's lab,” Lucifer answers her silent query. “Had to make sure you were far enough before barging in, so I could survive the gas.”  
  
They went over so many things when they got together, so many instances in which she let stuff go in the heat of the moment, and this is one of those. But she figures this didn’t feel worth mentioning to him: like he said, it was just a vulnerability test while she ran farther and farther away. Still, Chloe brings his left wrist to her mouth just the same and feels the intermittent pumping of Lucifer’s blood under her lips, the slight bulge of his veins. He squirms under her, his other arm wrapping around her waist to keep her tight against him, his breath growing heavy at the sensation.  
  
But of course, Chloe is not done. After letting go of his arm, she moves lower, until her face hovers over the bullet wounds on his stomach. Lucifer’s arousal compels her to go lower still, but she stops herself: she will take care of him that way too, but later, and besides, (to use his exact words) he loves _delayed gratification in bed_.  
  
“Malcom Graham,” she whispers, then kisses the corresponding scar. “Siege at Lux,” and repeat.  
  
“I do get shot in the gut a lot, don’t I?” Lucifer muses, not-so-subtly arching his lower body toward her. The smile on his lips is one of amusement, because of course, it’s all fun and games to him. Until it isn’t. He literally died in the first of these instances, and almost did in the second.  
  
“Told you you should wear a freaking vest,” Chloe reminds him.  
  
“And _I_ told you they ruin the lines of my–oh, Detective, you absolute _minx_,” Lucifer whines when she shifts to the side, kisses his hipbone and slides down his right leg, away from where he wants her.  
  
Waiting for her now, there is the original sin: the graze her own gunshot left on his skin, the one scar that is _hers_ in every way. How did Lucifer even acquire the bullet to later turn it into jewelry? Bribery, she imagines, or quite simply an exchange of favors. The thought of him going through the trouble is terribly endearing to her, no matter the method employed. Goes to show how _extra_ the Devil can be.  
  
“You complained _so much_ about it back then,” she teases him right before kissing the spot. “Went as far as _limping_.”  
  
“I was hurt in my pride, Detective, I'm sure you can understand.”  
  
Chloe laughs in response: yes, she supposes she can. Oh, the shock on his face when he bled; and yet, he stuck around. He never left.  
  
“Turn over for me?” she asks softly, looking up at him through her lashes. What is there to kiss, along his back? Her mission won’t be accomplished until she finds out.  
  
Lucifer does as instructed, flopping back down on his stomach and linking his hands under his chin. Chloe takes a moment to run her hands up the muscles of his back, smoothing them forward and outward, smiling as she feels him melt into the mattress below. The scars caused by his wing amputation are gone now that he has them back, so the first thing she notices is the exit point of the pool cue. After kissing that, there seems to be nothing else to find… until her gaze lands somewhere else.  
  
“Wow, I completely forgot about this.”  
  
It’s the back of his right arm, superficially burned when Lucifer carried her out of Pop's restaurant as it went up in flames. So, so long ago. _The Devil burned by fire, now isn’t that ironic._  
  
Back then, it only was because she didn’t believe him, and it was almost funny, the way he tried to rationalize it. After the explosion on the set of _The Cabin_, instead, she understands how upsetting it must have been.  
  
“Does it hurt?” she asks, lightly skimming her fingertips over that patch of skin. He’s told her the burns she sees when he assumes his devilish form do not, but this is a normal one, caused by the most ordinary of fires.  
  
“No, darling, don’t worry,” she hears him say, his voice full of affection. He angles his head to watch her as she lowers herself down on him, her body aligning with his, and kisses the uneven ridges and bumps along the back of his arm. The skin is partially healed, and not nearly as red as his hellish visage, but still feels rough under her lips.  
  
Once satisfied with her ministrations, Chloe takes a moment to bury her face in the nape of Lucifer’s neck, breathing him in.  
  
“I didn’t miss anything, right?” she asks to make sure, ‘cause good grief, it _is_ a lot of scars. He really is her Devil-shield, as he likes to call himself.  
  
When she receives nothing but silence in response, and feels Lucifer tense up under her, she immediately knows something is up. It’s simple enough: when he doesn’t answer a direct question, it’s because there’s something he doesn’t want to say, his strategy to avoid lying.  
  
“Lucifer?” she still insists, raising herself up to take a good look at his back. What can it be?  
  
He stays quiet, but Chloe eventually figures it out. The graze from Cain’s blow catches her attention, and with it, everything else that happened that day. Losing consciousness from the shot to her vest, being swept away into the air, landing on a faraway roof surrounded by blood-covered feathers.  
  
_His wings._  
  
“Chloe, you don’t have to,” Lucifer whispers, their eyes meeting when he lifts and turns his head toward her. Somehow, he knows she got it.  
  
But the thing is… yes, yes she has to. His wings must have healed during the month she spent in Europe, although maybe they took even longer, she can’t say. Point is, back then she probably wouldn’t have been ready to handle seeing them, even if she’d stayed; but now she is. This is her chance to make amends for that.  
  
“I want to. I… I need to.”  
  
And after a long, tense pause and an intense battle of stares, Lucifer does not deny her.  
  
The rippling under his shoulder blades forces her to sit up and straddle his waist as his angel wings unfurl, catching the sunlight from outside. They open wide on either side of his back, wingspan as impressive as ever. What Chloe finds herself witnessing is clearly a middle stage: bullet wounds already closed, feathers missing here and there and showing patches of skin underneath. So, so many.  
  
Her right hand trembles as she reaches out, but steadies once it comes in contact with his wing. Chloe uses the top arch to support herself, then starts kissing all those raw, exposed places, the feathers around them tickling her nose and cheeks. Under her, Lucifer groans softly into the pillow, his fingers tightening into the fabric of its gold-colored case.  
  
“Feels good?” Chloe asks him, though the gentle rocking of his hips is already answer enough.  
  
“Yes,” Lucifer croaks. “Yes, it does,” which is all she wanted to hear, and the point of all this.  
  
It takes her a long time to kiss all the spots. Maybe not _hours_ like he said, but many blissful minutes, until the angel under her softly begs her for more.  
  
After, Chloe leaves him to doze off for a while longer, wings out and draped along the sides of the bed.  
  
When she comes back from the shower, all feathers are there, and all scars gone.

  
  
_3\. Jump at the opportunity to fulfill your own desires_  
  
She doesn’t intend for it to happen. In a way, despite her being human, the one to blame is her subconscious, too, although _she_ can’t turn it into a reality by herself. It’s just that all these talks and examples of Lucifer self-actualizing stuff, well… they opened her mind to a lot of possibilities, and made her reconsider the _im_possibility of certain things. Certain _fantasies_.  
  
They’re sleeping at her place this time, when it happens. When Chloe wakes up in the middle of the night, sweaty and aroused, to find Lucifer staring back at her with an amused grin and a question at the ready.  
  
“My darling, what on _earth_ was your naughty Detective mind dreaming about?”  
  
Embarrassment fills her as she realizes she has her arms raised and her fists closed, just like she did when Maze snuck into her room years ago, alerted by the sounds she was making and curious to find out the reason.  
  
_Detective, I see you’ve found my love handles!_  
  
She sits up and covers her face with her hands, a frustrated groan leaving her lips, but Lucifer isn’t having it.  
  
“No, no, no, come now, none of that!” Reaching toward her, he pries her fingers open so she can look at him, one eye revealed through the gap in between. “Is it a new kink I don’t know about? You can tell me anything, love, you know I don’t judge! What were you holding on to there, eh?”  
  
“I don’t want you to know,” Chloe mumbles, her mouth still hidden behind her palms. “It’s just too weird.”  
  
“Oh, _do_ tell, then.” Lucifer wiggles his eyebrows, his weight resting on one elbow while he lies on his side next to her. “Sometimes the weirder the better, Detective, trust me! I mean, as long as it doesn’t involve bloody tarantulas, I'm game. ‘Cause let me tell you from experience, you don’t want those creepy-crawlies creepy-crawling all over your–”  
  
“Horns!” Chloe gives up, lifting her hands from her face. She’d rather not know where that story was going, and it’s clearly time to reveal this _big secret_ of hers once and for all. “I was holding on to _your_ horns, alright?”  
  
Lucifer blinks several times, evidently taken aback. Chloe braces herself for laughter or offense, knowing he has very blunt opinions on such inaccurate depictions of the Devil. He even told her during a stake-out once, that he doesn’t have those, and for a long time Chloe has been convinced there’s no way they can appear despite the _other_ changes his body is capable of.  
  
But now? She has seen Charlie develop a _snake tongue_, for God’s sake. Which reminds her: what _was_ God thinking when he made His children this way?  
  
But instead, Lucifer simply says, “Oh. Uhm, interesting.”  
  
“You’re not mad, right?”  
  
“Mm? No, of course not, Detective. Just surprised, is all. I mean, I am horny all the time, I just didn’t know you wanted me _horned_, too.”  
  
An awkward silence settles between them after that. Not knowing what else to say and eager to change the subject, Chloe improvises, “Hey, did you know Linda and Amenadiel had to keep Charlie and Cerberus separated for the time being? Between the three heads and the fire-breathing, they just couldn’t risk it. Kinda breaks my heart though, Charlie loves that dog.”  
  
Lucifer huffs, “Alright, new rule: no discussing offspring of _any_ kind while we’re in bed, sounds good?”  
  
“Right, yes, sorry. Didn’t realize I just did it again.”  
  
And back to silence.  
  
Then, Lucifer goes, “Anyway… if I were to, hypothetically, fulfill this very peculiar desire of yours, Detective… what would I get in return?”  
  
Ah, so maybe _he_ doesn’t want to change the subject. Negotiating a deal over it? Wasn’t exactly what she expected, but hey, why not. All the changes he's been through have been reversible, and _he_ is the one offering.  
  
“Well, what would _you_ want?” she counters, because for _sure_ Lucifer has a request in mind already – he always does, just in case.  
  
The Devil grins like the Cheshire cat, as predicted. “How about my own desk at the precinct, mm? With a name tag saying _Detective Morningstar_, and my own badge, and my own gun.”  
  
“You’re not a cop, Lucifer, so that would be illegal.”  
  
“Oh, I assure you, I have my ways to make it completely legit. Just need your approval to go through with it, dear. _If_ you still want your wish fulfilled, that is?”  
  
The smug bastard.  
  
“Okay, counter-offer: a desk, a tag with your name that says _Official Civilian Consultant_ and the badge. _No gun._”  
  
Is she the only one who remembers him _shooting_ someone through a puppet, pulling the trigger of the gun hidden inside by mistake? Apparently she is, and she _knows_ Lucifer has a fantastic memory when it suits his needs.  
  
Of course, he has the audacity to even think it over. Until, finally, he relents, “Fine: desk, name tag, badge _and_ stake-out sex next time we have the chance. ‘Cause we never do that, and it’s just _criminal_.”  
  
Chloe crosses her arms over her chest. “Last time we were making out in the car, you almost broke my windows with your wings.”  
  
“Alright, well, I promise to do my best to keep the pesky buggers in check. So, do we have a deal, Detective?”  
  
Her eyes narrowed, Chloe reluctantly reaches out to shake the hand he just offered her. They can’t really be sure Lucifer will pull it off, but anyway, she’ll only have to uphold her end of the bargain if he does. And as much as he prides himself with fulfilling her every desire in bed, she knows he wouldn’t have suggested all this if he felt uncomfortable with the notion.  
  
“Deal.”

  
  
A few days later…  
  
_From: Lucifer ❤_  
  
_Detective, I have the feeling you should have been slightly more specific…_  
  



End file.
